The Facade of the Truth
by Elven Victory
Summary: What if everything that one boy had been told suddenly changed? What would happen if he found out something that would change the course of his life forever? This story, in case you didn't know, is on hold. Sorry - I probably will continue with it one day
1. The beginning of the end

The Facade of the Truth  
  
Summary: What if everything that one boy had been told suddenly changed? What would happen if he found out something that would change the course of his life forever? There will be OOTP spoilers in later chapters. Please read and review.  
  
Pairings: None.  
  
Warnings: There will be some Order of the Phoenix spoilers in the next chapter, but not in this one.  
  
Disclaimer: The very talented J.K.Rowling owns anything you recognize in this story. Well, except some things that you know don't belong to her, like a wooden table or a record player.  
  
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Chapter one - The Beginning of the End  
  
James Potter woke up in his red armchair with his glasses hanging off his nose. His one-year-old son, Harry, was quietly sleeping on his lap, his tiny fingers resting on the page of an open book that his father had been reading to him before they both fell asleep.  
  
James slowly lifted his hand and put his glasses back in place, careful not to wake his son. As he moved the book away carefully, Harry lifted his fingers slightly, but he was still fast asleep.  
  
The boy's father looked at the clock, which was shaped like a cat. It read three a.m. Sighing, he carefully wrapped his arms round the boy and carried him gradually up the stairs. Harry mumbled something in his sleep as James put him into his cot. He put a white blanket over him and made sure the boy wasn't too cold. Then, the man sat down on a chair.  
  
"James, you woke me up. Why were you downstairs?" came the quiet, calm voice of Lily.  
  
She was standing in the doorway dressed in red satin pyjamas, her hair messed up. She looked as though she had just woken up from a deep slumber.  
  
"Shush, Lily, you'll wake Harry." James whispered.  
  
Scratching her head slightly, Lily walked over towards the cot and looked down at her son.  
  
"I'm glad he's got your looks and not mine, James." She said.  
  
"Yeah, that's right. Otherwise, Harry will have all the men coming for him, if he looks like you."  
  
"Very funny. Come on, James, we better go back to bed, or else you'll be too tired to visit the members of the Order of the Phoenix tomorrow."  
  
"Can't I stay home and take care of Harry? I think he needs us more than they do." James said, as they both made their way towards the door.  
  
"Certainly not, James. You'd be heartbroken if anyone from the Order died." Lily replied, closing the door softly behind her.  
  
"Fine, fine."  
  
They climbed back into bed and Lily went back to sleep, but James couldn't. He wasn't tired at all now, and something didn't feel right.  
  
'I haven't felt that since - no, don't think about that, James.' He reassured himself, 'it can't be him. Not now. Not at three o'clock in the morning.'  
  
James settled down and went to sleep, his mind still uneasy. If he did come, this man, James would know what to do, wouldn't he? He would be able to protect his son, wouldn't he?  
  
There was that doubt in his mind.  
  
After about one and a half hours of sleep, James woke up and began to think again. Soon, he couldn't bear it any longer. He got out of bed and made his way downstairs. The kitchen was just how he had left it. James hadn't washed the dishes like Lily had told him to, and he still hadn't hung the washing out on the line.  
  
Upstairs, Harry began to cry, and footsteps could be heard going into his room soon after. Lily had obviously woken up.  
  
As James was washing the dishes, Lily came into the kitchen, patting Harry on the back. He was still crying, but not so loudly.  
  
"Ah, Lily, he wants to see me. Give him here, will you?" James said.  
  
Lily sighed and handed the boy over to her husband. James put on a childish voice and began talking to his son.  
  
"Wittle baby Harry wants to see Mr. Big Bear. He's tired and lonely, and he wants to go home. Wittle baby Harry woke up fwightened because he fought the big old nasty witch was going to get him. Yes he did, didn't -"  
  
"James, he's hungry. He wants feeding, like all infants do. It's nothing to do with fairy-stories." Lily said simply, as she got out some baby-food.  
  
"Hey, hey, hey, hang on a minute, Lily, you're not going to feed that to him? At his age, he should be living on freshly caught rabbits and chickens! Whole, too!" James said quickly, sniffing the food Lily had given their son.  
  
Harry had stopped crying, by this time.  
  
"Yummy?" he asked, in his childish, high pitched voice.  
  
"No, not yummy, Harry. I'm sure Lily's been cooking our garbage to give to you -"  
  
"James!" Lily said, snatching the food back. "I would have expected better of you. He's just a baby! You'll teach him words that we don't want him saying -"  
  
"Better me teaching him them than you." James said.  
  
Lily ignored him.  
  
"When he gets older, who knows what sort of words he'll learn!" she cried. Then, as if she remembered something, she looked directly at her husband. "James, you haven't really been feeding him chickens and rabbits, have you?" She asked.  
  
"Of course, Lily! What did you expect? I've been feeding a one-year-old baby adult chickens and rabbits, and he ate it all!" James replied sarcastically.  
  
Lily rolled her eyes and took Harry from James. Then, she walked out of the kitchen with her son. James watched her as she closed the door, and then he continued washing the dishes.  
  
He walked over to the record player and put on some music. It was Christmas Carols - Harry loved listening to them.  
  
As he was quietly humming to himself, James heard something outside. It was the sound of footsteps on the gravel path. Then, he remembered how he felt earlier.  
  
"No, please don't let it be him. It can't be." He said aloud.  
  
Then, he froze as he saw a cloaked figure heading towards the front door outside. Its' scarlet eyes shone brightly into the darkness of the morning.  
  
"No, no, no. This can't be happening. Lily!" James said again.  
  
Lily came walking back into the kitchen with Harry.  
  
"What are you saying, James?" she said.  
  
The woman's husband couldn't take his eyes off the approaching figure outside.  
  
"Lily, get out." He said coolly.  
  
"What do you -" Lily began.  
  
"Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off -"  
  
The red-haired woman gasped as though she understood, held her son tighter against her body, and stumbled out of the room.  
  
Then, the door flung open, and a cackle of high-pitched laughter filled the room.  
  
Lord Voldemort stood there, his wand out, his eyes cold and filled with malice.  
  
James drew out his wand and pointed it at the Dark Lord.  
  
"I told you, did I not?" Voldemort hissed. "I told you to stay away from your son and your filthy little mudblood wife. But no, you disobeyed me, and I am here to seek revenge. Not just on you, but on your little boy also. Prepare to die."  
  
"I haven't done anything to you. I told you I didn't want anything to do with you, so leave us alone." James replied coolly, his eyes fixed on Voldemort's.  
  
"Whether you like it or not, I still have to make sure you don't get involved with these foolish, good-for-nothing half-breeds and muggles. But then, I shouldn't waste my time on you. Even though you are my flesh and blood, you are worthless."  
  
"Speak for yourself. I've got a family, which you're not included in, and I don't want my son to ever find out about you. Expelliarmus!" James cried.  
  
Voldemort muttered a spell under his breath, and instead of his wand going to James, James' wand went to him.  
  
"You are worthless. Just surrender now, and I'll let you go. You don't need your little mudblood wife and half-breed son. Join me, James."  
  
"I'd prefer to die!" James exclaimed.  
  
"Then that leaves me no choice. Crucio!" Voldemort hissed.  
  
James shrieked in pain. His face began pouring with sweat, and he clutched the side of the table for support.  
  
"Please! No!" he bawled.  
  
Voldemort's evil grin faded, and he lifted his wand slowly. Instantly, James fell to the floor, choking.  
  
"Have you learnt your lesson yet? Or do you need some more pain?" Voldemort asked coolly, walking around the wheezing man.  
  
"Imperio!" James cried, pointing his wand at the Dark Lord.  
  
Voldemort froze for a second, but the effect didn't last. He pointed his wand at James again.  
  
"You're not that good, Potter. Crucio!" he hissed.  
  
James, who had been trying to get off the floor, tumbled onto the ground again with gritted teeth, withering in pain. The Dark Lord lifted his wand again when he heard the man speak.  
  
"Leave the o-others alone, and kill m-me instead." James panted.  
  
"You're foolish. You would rather sacrifice yourself than run away? I'm giving you the choice, boy, so why don't you pick the more sensible option?"  
  
"Don't hurt my son. You can take me, just don't hurt my son."  
  
"Ah, but that's the reason why I'm here. To kill that filthy half-breed-"  
  
"Funny, I was under the illusion that you were a half-blood, too." James interrupted.  
  
"How dare you, boy! Crucio!" Voldemort shrieked, pointing his wand at the man again.  
  
James screamed in pain again, and tears began to prickle at his eyes as he heard Harry's cries in the other room.  
  
"Goodbye, Harry!" he managed to shout.  
  
Voldemort lifted his wand again and James fell to the floor once more, panting. The Dark Lord listened to the crying intently, and, ignoring the twenty-one year old man's wheezing, made his way towards the door of the next room.  
  
"No, don't-hurt-Harry!" the man cried, as he watched Voldemort walk steadily towards the door. Just as he was about to turn the doorknob, James shouted to him again. "Father! I'm your son! You wouldn't do this to your own son, would you?"  
  
The Dark Lord turned around to look at his son, and shook his head.  
  
"You are no son of mine." He said.  
  
Then, he turned around to face the door and walked swiftly out of the room.  
  
Upstairs, Lily sat down in a corner of the nursery and wrapped her arms around a weeping Harry. She rocked back and forth with him in her arms.  
  
"Shush, Harry. Be quiet, or he'll hear us." She said.  
  
Tears were streaming down her face at hearing her husband scream in pain. Even though Harry was just a baby, Lily knew that he could sense they were all in danger. He cried louder.  
  
"Harry, please. Please don't cry! We're going to be fine." Lily said shakily, her whole body trembling.  
  
She closed her eyes. Why wasn't any sound coming from downstairs? Why wasn't James screaming any more? Was there just that chance, that tiny chance, that he was dead?  
  
Lily shook her head. They were all going to get out of this alive. She was sure of it.  
  
But then she heard footsteps coming up the stairs. Was it James? No, he usually bounded up the stairs. These footsteps were swift, but quiet. The red-haired woman heard heavy breathing drawing nearer, and Harry began to cry.  
  
"Harry, please don't cry." She said. "I know you -"  
  
Her sentence was interrupted as the door flung open, and a dark figure stood there, his scarlet eyes gleaming with malice, his wand outstretched. He walked over to the cowering woman in the corner, who was sobbing. She looked up at the Dark Lord, terrified.  
  
"No!" she screamed, tears running down her already red and wet cheeks.  
  
"Give the boy to me." Voldemort ordered, his wand pointing at Lily.  
  
"Not Harry! Please, take me, not Harry!" She bawled.  
  
"Give him to me!"  
  
"NO! No, please don't hurt Harry! Please!" Lily sobbed.  
  
She held Harry closer to her and gripped him tightly. He was crying, louder than he was before. She put her son against the wall lightly and covered him with her own body.  
  
"I wont let you hurt Harry!" she cried to Voldemort, her eyes stained with tears. Then, she bent her head closer, if possible, to Harry's. "I love you, Harry. I'm sorry I couldn't save you." She whispered to him.  
  
"You have to make it so difficult. I have nothing more to say to you. Avada Kedavra!"  
  
Lily's eyes widened in shock as the bright green light headed for her, and she froze. Her body fell to the floor, exposing Harry to the murderer of his mother.  
  
"It took a little longer than I expected, but, now you're mine. Avada Kedavra!" Voldemort shrieked.  
  
The bright green light that had killed Harry's mother erupted from the Dark Lord's wand again. It headed straight for the little boy, who was cowering and crying in the corner, and hit him on the forehead. Voldemort cackled. Instead of the curse sinking into the boy's head, it bounded back at the Dark Lord. He watched, in horror, as the green light came towards him.  
  
"NO!" he screamed.  
  
The spell hit him directly in the chest, and his eyes widened in shock. He exploded seconds after, and the house shook violently. The ceiling began collapsing, and James Potter crawled in through the door.  
  
"Harry!" he cried, as he scooped the little boy up in his arms.  
  
But there was no time to lose. With Harry over his shoulder, James swayed down the rocking stairs. He gripped the banister with his free hand as the house shook again. He held the crying Harry tightly as he entered the kitchen, where the record player was still playing.  
  
"Oh, Harry, I thought I had almost lost you. Your poor, poor mother, she loved you. She.she -" Tears streamed down his face. "She's gone." He finished, looking around slowly.  
  
The little boy looked at him with tears in his own eyes. He held his hand against his father's cheek and rested his head on his shoulder.  
  
"Oh Harry, I'm going to have to leave you. They'll be after me else. They will think I did all this." James sobbed, trying to make his voice calmer so he wouldn't scare his son again.  
  
His son, who had calmed down a bit, lifted his head again and looked at his father.  
  
"Daddy." he said quietly.  
  
James drew out a small handkerchief and wiped the tears away from his son's eyes. Then, he began to cry silent tears himself. He put the little boy down onto the carpet. Harry began to cry again.  
  
"Harry, I love you, son." James whispered as he reached the front door. "I never wanted to leave you, but I don't have a choice. It's impossible to stay with you. I'm so sorry. Remember Harry - years on from now.ten years.fifteen.never look back. Don't look back."  
  
Tears in his eyes, he left the house and shut the door. The man leaned against the door and wiped away his own tears. Then, he started to make his way down the path.  
  
Harry climbed onto the sofa and watched as his father walked down the gravel path slowly, never looking back.  
  
As though the little boy understood that he could never see his father again, he put one tiny hand up to the broken window and silent tears streamed down his face.  
  
"I love you, too, Daddy." He whispered, as 'Silent Night' played in the background. He watched the garden gate close with a tiny 'click', echoing through the silent air. "I won't look back."  
  
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Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed this story. If you did, could you possibly review it, please? There will be more chapters when I get around to it, but I'm not sure when. Obviously, it won't be too long. In the meantime, please go and read some of my other stories. Thank you! 


	2. There's no one left

The Façade of the Truth  
  
Notes/Warnings: There are major OOTP spoilers in this chapter.  
  
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Chapter two - There's no one left.  
  
Harry Potter opened eyes his quickly and sat bolt upright in bed. A searing pain had shot across his scar. The boy fumbled around for his glasses on the bedside unit, and sat up against the headboard.  
  
He was in his own room at the Dursleys' house. The sun hadn't risen yet, so the house was still dark and silent. Dudley ran away two days ago, so his loud snores were absent. Harry remembered his cousin leaving as clear as day.  
  
------------ (Harry's POV)  
  
Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had gone out for the day, leaving Dudley and I in the house alone. They had both gone to London for a break, and so far, I had hardly seen my cousin at all.  
  
As I was sitting at the kitchen table, deep in thought, I heard something smash in the living room.  
  
"What could that be?" I remember asking myself.  
  
"Stupid, just stupid." A voice, I recognized as Dudley's, said.  
  
I put my mug of tea down on the table and got off the chair, curious.  
  
"Dudley, is that you?" I asked loudly.  
  
"Go away!" Dudley cried. Then, as I made my way towards the living room door, he spoke again. "I'll tell dad on you! Go away!"  
  
"Dudley? What are you doing?" I asked, giving a slight chuckle at the end.  
  
I turned the doorknob, hoping to get inside the room, but the door was locked.  
  
"I told you to go away!"  
  
"What are you trying to do?"  
  
"None of your business!"  
  
I leant against the door, slightly worried. Uncle Vernon would blame me if anything happened to him. He was still angry at what occurred last summer.  
  
"Come on, Big D, open the door. I'll tell your little friends on you if you don't." I said anxiously.  
  
Then, the door opened, and Dudley stood there. He had a full suitcase in one hand, and I could see that he had trashed the living room.  
  
"What are you doing?" I asked, surprised. "You aren't.. leaving?"  
  
"Yeah, I am. Get out of my way, Potter, because I'm going and you're not telling anyone." He replied angrily, pushing past me.  
  
"What will Uncle Vernon say? You expect me to cover up for you?"  
  
"If you don't, I'll come back and kill you."  
  
Dudley eventually managed to get to the door with his huge, over-filled suitcase. He had a look of spite on his face, and just as he opened the door, he faced me again.  
  
"Remember, if you don't cover up for me, I'll come and kill you."  
  
Then, he walked out of the door and slammed it shut.  
  
"I never knew how much my cousin was like Lord Voldemort." I said quietly.  
  
Terrific, my sixteen-year-old cousin had run away from home and left me to clean up after him.  
  
Uncle Vernon wouldn't appreciate this at all.  
  
------------  
  
Harry sighed loudly and got off the bed, his scar still searing with pain. But this meant nothing anymore, for he was used to the throbbing. He walked over to the window and opened his curtains quietly.  
  
It was still relatively dark outside, and the streetlamps were still on, lighting the silent road of Privet Drive. The first full moon for the month glittered above the noiseless houses of Little Winging, making the air even more silent. The only moving thing in the street was one fluffy grey cat, which sitting on the wall, licking its paws carefully.  
  
Thoughts came flooding into the boy's head as he looked up into the night sky. If Dudley hadn't left, everything would be much more simple. Petunia was the only reason Harry hadn't been thrown out, and at the moment, things weren't looking very good for her or Vernon. Dudley's departure made them both angry, and when she could take the arguing and quarrelling no longer, Petunia packed her bags and left to look for her son.  
  
Harry turned his head around towards the door when he heard something in the next room. But no, it was only one of Uncle Vernon's loud snorts in his sleep. Hedwig gave a soft, tranquil hoot. She had apparently woken up.  
  
The-boy-who-lived turned his head round again to look out of the window.  
  
His scar seared with a sharp, sudden pain, and he froze suddenly when he saw something on the pavement across the road. Was it - no, it couldn't have been, could it?  
  
Two scarlet eyes watching him intently from a black hood had just vanished off the side of the road.  
  
No, it couldn't have been him. Not at this time in the morning.  
  
Harry looked at his clock, now feeling cold and shivery inside. It read four o'clock. Vernon gave another one of his snorts in his sleep as his nephew got back into bed.  
  
There was no point in worrying about it now. It was just his imagination, wasn't it? Besides, what would he be doing alone in the middle of a muggle neighbourhood? Wouldn't he have wanted to watch them, instead? Maybe even kill them. Moreover, he didn't even know where his rival lived.  
  
He drifted back off to sleep, but only for a short while. Harry awoke when he heard a loud creak on the stairs, followed by the sound of footsteps drawing nearer.  
  
"Aunt Petunia?" he asked under his breath. "Aunt Petunia, is that you?"  
  
The doorknob rattled loudly and shook, as though someone was trying to get into the room. Harry turned over and buried his head into the pillow.  
  
"Quiet boy." he heard Uncle Vernon say sleepily.  
  
Hedwig began to hoot louder, and Harry gripped his patchwork blanket tighter around him. Footsteps could be heard walking away from the door, followed by heavy breathing. Then, it stopped.  
  
He sat up quietly in bed, the quilt still clutched firmly in his hand. What was that? Why hadn't it entered the bedroom? Hedwig hooted loudly again and moved around inside her cage. It almost toppled over onto the floor.  
  
Loud footsteps could now be heard coming from Vernon's room. They headed straight down the hall towards Harry's room, and then the door flung open.  
  
All of a sudden, a blinding flash of bright green light filled the room, and Vernon fell onto Harry's carpet, not moving. He had a look of complete shock on his face, and his arms were stretched out. A cloaked figure walked swiftly towards the staircase and vanished, leaving Harry in a very confused state of mind.  
  
"Uncle Vernon?" he whispered frantically. "Uncle Vernon?"  
  
He scrambled out of bed and kneeled down beside his uncle. His eyes were full of surprise, and his mouth was wide open. Harry put one hand over his uncle's thickset arm and shook him slightly, not knowing what else to do. Petunia and Dudley were gone, so there was no one to help him.  
  
Hedwig hooted loudly again and rattled her cage, which made the boy-who- lived look at her.  
  
"Hedwig, what do I do?" he asked her, one hand still clutched to his uncle's arm. "I can't just leave him here."  
  
Then, a thought struck him. A terrible thought. If anyone caught him here with a dead man, wouldn't they think he did it? They would blame him, and that could land him in Azkaban without a fair trail - like what happened to Sirius Black.  
  
Sirius - thoughts came rushing into Harry's head. Maybe his godfather would help him now. What was stopping him? He ran over to his desk and pulled out a sheet of parchment and a quill from the drawer.  
  
Just as he was about to write 'Dear Sirius', something stopped him. How could he write to his godfather? He didn't have a godfather - he was gone. he was dead. There was no one left to write or talk to. Remus Lupin would be no help - not if he was running around as a werewolf at this precise moment, anyway. Ron would just find his problem simply amazing, and Hermione would just break down into tears and tell him to ask Dumbledore.  
  
"I can't tell Dumbledore. He'll just recommend me caution."  
  
Then, another thought struck Harry. He was no longer protected or safe. Lord Voldemort had just been here - in this very house. How did he get in when he was supposed to be secure?  
  
There was nothing else for it. Harry had to get out of the house tonight and go far away where he would be safe. Otherwise, Voldemort would come back for him, and even if he didn't, the neighbours would blame him for Vernon's death. Another quick glance at his uncle told Harry that he had to run away.  
  
He walked over to his loose floorboard and pulled out his belongings. Then, he grabbed his trunk and hastily filled it up with his wand, books, clothes, robes, parchment, quills, telescope and scales. Then, he slammed the trunk lid shut and got back up off the floor to fetch Hedwig's cage.  
  
A few minutes later, Harry stepped over his dead uncle and out of the door, his trunk in one hand and Hedwig's cage in the other. He was cautious going down the stairs in case any neighbours were standing there, waiting to take him to the police, or worse, Lord Voldemort jumping out at him. But eventually, he made it to the front door and went outside into the warm, silent summer air.  
  
Part of the sun could be seen over the horizon, waiting to rise. The moon couldn't be seen so easily now, but the air was still as noiseless as it was almost two hours ago.  
  
Harry headed down the garden path with his trunk, not knowing where to go. He had to get away, yes, but where to? The Knight Bus. He could take the Knight Bus to Diagon Alley and stay at the Leaky Cauldron. He headed down the path and stuck out his arm.  
  
BANG  
  
The purple triple-decker bus appeared before his eyes.  
  
"Right. Goodbye for good, Privet Drive." He said to himself.  
  
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Author's Note: I apologize for this chapter not being very long. It was really just to say that the story is still going. I will try and update it more often from now. Yes, I took the cliffhanger away because I've come up with a new idea for the story. Please review this chapter! Thank you.  
  
Reviews:  
  
So many reviews for the first chapter, and they aren't too bad, either. I am happy to write this second chapter for you all, and I hope it's as good as the first one. Thank you all, you've all made my day.  
  
lily-potter2010: I'm glad you like the story! Yes, the first chapter was a bit sad, but at least James is still alive. See? I've already said too much! Please keep reading! Thanks for your review!  
  
Yolande: That's very kind of you to say it's a good story. I appreciate that very much indeed. I'm glad you're enjoying it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Thank you for your review.  
  
Baby Vader: You do sound as if you're enjoying the story, which I'm very thrilled about. I'm also pleased it's not repetitive. Thank you very much for your review, and I'm glad you like the story!  
  
lucylu4701: Clearly, you like the story. I am very happy to hear that. Well, please keep on reading! Thank you for your review!  
  
sharfulislam: Well, I'm glad this story has made you happier, really :-). I hope this chapter is as good as the first one, and I apologize for not e- mailing you when I updated. I was a bit busy. Thank you for reading the story and reviewing it!  
  
Kurbani: Hello! If you did read my other stories, I hope you enjoyed them as much as this one. I'm glad you thought it was good! Please keep reading, and thank you for your review.  
  
Facade1: Yes, but I must say that the future chapters won't be so bad. There is a huge story line that is slowly coming up, and I hope you continue to read it. Thank you for your review.  
  
lily evans: Lily! My most recognizable and best reviewer! I'm glad you like the story (and all my others). But please say if there is anything wrong with any of the stories, then I can correct it :-). Thank you very much for your review! 


	3. A surprising discovery

The Façade of the Truth

Warnings/Notes: Once again, there will be OOTP spoilers in this chapter.

Disclaimer: Nothing in this story you recognize as Harry Potter material belongs to me. J.K.Rowling created it all.

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Chapter three – A surprising discovery

Harry Potter made his way down the deserted, narrow passageway dividing Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley. He hated to do this, but he had no choice. He made his way into the main street, where people in rags crowded round a small window. 

"Excuse me," he asked, as he saw an old woman with a plate of human finger bones, "could you possibly tell me where the Knockturn Alley bookshop is?"

The woman grunted something and pointed to a small, narrow alley. 

"Thanks." Harry said under his breath, as he made his way down the passage. 

Rats scurried along the dirty stonework, and the large walls either side of the path were covered in pictures of people being tortured. Eventually, Harry came to the end of the alley, where a line of shops stood in a row. A small bookshop with dusty windows stood at the very end of the line.  Rubbish bags were by the side of the steps leading up to the green door, which paint was peeling off, and one of the windows were broken. Harry walked up to the door and opened it. 

A small, grey haired man stood behind the counter with a dark green cloak on. He was muttering something under his breath as he wrote on some parchment.

"Frogs brain, toads leg and tongue of snake, mixed in with the dragons blood, gives you –" he stopped abruptly when he saw Harry. 

"Hello – I'm here to find a book on disguise and concealment." The boy-who-lived explained.

The man looked at him, and then his scar. A nasty sneer played across his lips.

"Harry Potter – well I never. My name is Alexander Burkes." He said croakily. "Never in my life would I have expected the boy who defeated the Dark Lord to come strolling into Knockturn Alley."

"So, do you have any books on disguise and concealment?" the boy asked, trying to ignore the man.

Alexander, who was still sneering, swooped away from the counter and headed towards a door opposite Harry. He beckoned for the boy to follow, and then pulled out a loop of three rusty, old-looking keys. Then, he put the middle key into the keyhole, turned it, and the door creaked open slowly. 

The room inside was very dark and cold. Only one small window was placed high up on the wall, and large cobwebs dangled from the ceiling. Dimly lit were rows of bookshelves, and in between them, about fifteen aisles, which were numbered. The books looked old, and the carpet was the colour of blood. 

"I better leave you alone to read. Disguise and concealment books are on aisle two - just come back out to me if you see anything you like." Alexander sneered in his cold, croaky voice. 

"Uh, thanks." The boy-who-lived said slowly. 

Then, the shopkeeper left the room and shut the door, shutting out most of the available light. Harry drew out his wand.

"Lumos." He whispered.

Instantly, a small light appeared at the tip of his wand, allowing him to see. He walked over to aisle two, where most of the books were leather-bound and ripped. A small, wooden sign hung on the top shelf, saying 'Disguise and Concealment'. The boy ran his finger over the titles of the books and read them out.

"Protection charms against muggles, secret-keepers, murdering without being found out, escaping from murder, murderers in crime, committing an offence, five ways to escape from Azkaban…" 

Then, he stopped when he saw a small, leather-bound book with gold lettering. He took it off the shelf, pointed his wand at it, and read the title. 

"If You're Being Hunted By Muggles." 

Harry opened it up and turned the yellow, crinkled pages. It had everything – what to do if you were escaping muggle prison; how to gain power from muggles; how to slay muggles and not be found out…

"This is the one I want." The boy said quietly, closing the book. 

He made his way back up the aisle and walked along side the wall, looking for the door. He soon came to it and pulled the handle down, expecting the door to be locked. It wasn't, though, and Harry made his way out into the first room, where Alexander stood at the counter writing again. He looked up when he saw the boy.

"So, got your book, have you, boy?" he asked, sneering.

"Yes, Mr. Burkes. How much will it cost?" 

"Let me see it." He said, putting his hand out. 

Harry handed him the small, leather-bound book and Alexander grunted. He pulled out a small drawer behind him, took out a piece of parchment and put it onto the counter. Then, he took his eagle-feather quill and wrote something.

"This book costs eight galleons." He said, still scribbling on the parchment. 

"Eight galleons? Well, alright, then." Harry exclaimed, while pulling some gold he got from Gringotts out of his pocket. 

He handed it to Alexander, who gave him the parchment. 

"That's your receipt." He said. 

"Thanks. I better be off now." 

Mr. Burkes nodded and the boy-who-lived made his way out of the shop, closing the door swiftly behind him.          

"Right, at least that's done." 

Harry stuck out his left arm and the Knight Bus appeared again. With one last look around him, the boy-who-lived made his way onto the bus and vanished from sight.

----------

Harry Potter stepped down off the Knight Bus and waved to Stan Shunpike. The bus vanished into thin air not long after, and the boy-who-lived looked around at his surroundings.

He was at Grimmuald Place, and even though he knew no one was in number twelve at the moment, it was the safest place he could take shelter in. If anyone found out that Vernon was dead, the finger would be pointed at Harry, wouldn't it? And he couldn't afford to do anything else wrong – not at the moment. 

A house appeared in between numbers eleven and thirteen, and Harry quickly walked up the worn stone steps. He pulled out his wand and tapped the black door once. He heard many loud, metallic clicks and what sounded like a chain. Then, the door, which paint was peeling off, creaked open.  

Harry stepped inside the dark hall, remembering what Lupin had told him almost a year ago. 

_"Get in quick, Harry, but don't go far inside and don't touch anything."_

The familiar smell of damp, dust and a sweetish, rotting smell filled his nostrils, and he stepped further inside the house as the door closed.

"Is anybody here?" he asked in a hushed voice. 

No one answered. 

"Hello?" Harry asked, now speaking louder.

Then, a dreaded, familiar voice screeched into the boy's ear.

_"Filth! Scum!_ _Vile half-blood, be gone from this place! Contaminating the house of my fathers and mothers! Be gone, be gone, you –"_

"Please be quiet! It isn't your house anymore!" Harry said feebly, trying to reason with the howling portrait. "I'm sorry to disturb you, but please be quiet. I don't know how to keep you silent."

_"Filthy half-breed polluting the air of my_ _family's home! Be gone! Filth! Rotting the-"_

"Please, Mrs. Black. Please be quiet. This is difficult for me, too. I haven't been in this house alone before, and it makes it even harder when my godfather, Sirius, died. Did you know him?" Harry asked. But his feeble voice had no impact.

'What a stupid thing to say to her. Of course she knew him! He was her son!" 

_"Filthy,_ _rotting flesh of the vile half-breed, leave this place! I will –"_

"MRS. BLACK! PLEASE BE QUIET!" Harry yelled, trying to compete with the screaming woman. "DIDN'T YOU HEAR ME? IT'S HARD FOR ME, TOO! I SUPPOSE YOU WOULDN'T CARE THAT YOUR SON IS DEAD, WOULD YOU?"

Mrs. Black stopped screaming suddenly. Apparently, she hadn't expected anyone to be so rude.

_"You lie, you lie!_ _A filthy half-breed dares to lie to me! My vile, rotting son is not dead!"_

"I'm not lying. Now please, would you kindly shut up and leave me alone?" Harry snapped, as he walked over to the portrait and shut the curtains over it. 

"Wouldn't Sirius be proud of me? Arguing with his dead mother…" he said under his breath.

Harry found his way into the dark kitchen and sat down at the long table, oblivious to the fact that Sirius had sat in the same place almost a year before. He pulled out the small book he had bought earlier, opened it up, and began to read.

All of a sudden, Harry heard something upstairs. It sounded like a voice, although he wasn't sure, so he continued to read. Then, the voice grew louder. 

"That sounds like –" Harry began. 

"I don't believe this. It's absolutely ridiculous, but what am I supposed to do? I waited outside last night, patiently, hoping that something would happen, but it didn't! Maybe my eyes are becoming weak. Perhaps it isn't –" The voice stopped suddenly. 

"Professor Lupin? No, it couldn't be. It's full moon." The boy said quietly. 

"Harry?" The voice asked quietly, surprised. 

Then, the man came into the kitchen, and Harry could see that it was Remus Lupin. But he wasn't a werewolf. 

"What's the matter, Lupin?" 

"What are you doing here, Harry?" Remus asked with worry in his voice, sitting down at the table, opposite the boy. "Are you alright? Can I do anything for you?" 

"No, no, everything is fine." The boy replied, hiding the book away from his old teacher. "Aren't you supposed to be…away?" 

Lupin looked confused.

"I mean - it's full moon, so-"

"Ah yes. Well, just one little problem, Harry. Last night, when I was prepared to transform, I went outside and gazed up at the moon like I usually do. Then, I waited to become a…a…monster." Remus began.

Harry nodded.

"I must have waited for hours. I focused on the moon, trying to transform, but my eyes grew sore with staring at such a bright planet. I was also very tired by this time. I lay down, wanting to go to sleep, and I did. But when I woke up two hours later, I was exactly the same. Nothing happened, Harry. I couldn't transform." 

"But, how could that be?" the boy-who-lived asked. 

"I do not know. It's never happened before, and I'm sure you can't just stop being a werewolf. Something must have happened to alter the time change. Maybe the earth was on a different angle tilt so the ray of moonlight couldn't penetrate so-"

"Professor, maybe I could try and find out for you." 

"Oh, that's very kind of you, Harry, but I'm sure something will happen soon enough." Remus said quietly, with worry in his voice. Then, he looked at the boy again. "Hang on, why are you in this house on your own?" 

"Uh, well, I just wondered if it had changed at all."

"In a few months? No, Harry, I'm not taking that as an answer. Tell me the truth, please." 

The boy-who-lived thought quickly, not wanting anyone to know what had happened to Vernon. He eventually looked up at the man and leaned forward in his chair.

"I-I…just wanted to be around Sirius's memory." He said, feeling slightly miserable.

Lupin's face relaxed a little bit, but he now had a look of sympathy on his face. He got off the chair, walked over to Harry, and patted him on the shoulder gently. Then, he sat down next to the boy.

"It's alright, Harry. I still miss him, and I think we always will. But I think Sirius would want you to move on instead of grieving over him – I think it would be best if you tried thinking of the good times you had together instead of the bad."

"But Lupin, what good memories do I have of him?" the boy asked, anger building up inside of him. "Whenever I saw him, I was always worried that he'd be taken away to Azkaban. I'm still haunted by the memory of when I tried to…to –" he broke off, sadly remembering what had happened that night. "I tried to kill him, Lupin. If you hadn't come upstairs that time in the Shrieking Shack, I would never have known the truth."

"It's alright. You don't have to think about that. I know." 

"No, you don't." Harry spat suddenly, leaping of his chair. 

He stormed out of the room and made his way into the hall, anger filling him rapidly.

_"Filth! Scum! Be gone_ _from this place! Filthy beasts and half-breeds, be gone!"_ Sirius's mother screeched.

The boy spun around, pulled out his wand and pointed it at the portrait, fuming. 

"Crucio!" he cried, just as Lupin rushed into the room. 

The portrait fell to the ground and the woman inside it gasped. Then, she spoke in a very fast, high-pitched voice.

_"Unpolluted purebloods!_ _Be gone from my filthy house! Purifying the house of my grimy fathers and mothers! Traitor of my filth! You –"_

"Harry, what did you do?" Lupin asked, astonished. 

"I-I…" 

_"Be gone! Filtering the home of_ _mudbloods and us grimy half-breeds! Be gone, be gone!"_

Harry watched, in horror, as the woman in the portrait melted, screeching. Soon, all that was left was a pile of clothes in the picture. 

"Something tells me that the Black family won't be very happy about this." Lupin stated calmly. 

With one quick glance at the portrait, Harry dashed up the stairs, leaving a very confused Remus alone. The boy-who-lived ran to the top floor, where the stairs only led to one door. He pulled the chain that was locking it and ran in. 

It was a large room. A four-poster bed with silk scarlet hangings stood on the left side of the room, and a huge oak wardrobe with a large mirror was placed opposite that. The ceiling, which had inflatable motorbikes dangling from it, was decorated to look like the night sky, and the walls were dark blue, although instead of stars, tropical fish were painted on it. The window was open, and the red curtains had pictures of broomsticks on them. Then, Harry noticed a picture in a brass frame on the bedside unit. He went over to examine it.

It was the picture of the four marauders, no doubt. Sirius stood next to James with his arm around his neck, and Remus, who was smiling formally, had his hand on Peter's shoulder. They all held rolls of parchment in their hands and looked about fifteen years old. 

"Sirius…dad…" Harry said sadly as he sat down on the four-poster, tracing the outline of James and Sirius's heads with his fingers. 

Then, the boy noticed something in the top drawer of the bedside-unit. A small piece of parchment was visible, because the drawer had not been closed properly, and he put his hand in and pulled it out. 

It wasn't a piece of parchment – it was a leather-bound book with Sirius Black's initials on it. A small, rusty padlock was locking the book together, although the key for it was on top of the unit. Harry saw this, so he picked up the two rusty keys, put one into the lock, turned it, and it clicked open. Pulling the security device off, he opened up the leather cover and flicked through the crinkled, tear-stained parchment. Most of the pages had been ripped out for some reason, so Harry went back to the first page and began to read.

_"August 1976…_ _Hi! My name is Sirius Black. I'm sixteen years old, and you're lucky that you've found my diary. Whoever you are, I'm sure you'll find these pages most motivating! I like to play pranks with my mate, James Potter, and we get into loads of trouble. I have two other friends, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew, although they're not so keen on pranks and jokes! We all go to a nice wizarding school called Hogwarts, and it doesn't matter if you're a muggle because I will be dead by the time you find this! The authorities can't track me down because I hit the sack years ago! Unless they dig me up, nothing can stop me from kicking the bucket! Woohoo! Well, happy reading." _

The boy, who was smiling slightly, flicked over to another part of the book

_"December 1983…._ _I'm sitting in a cell in Azkaban at the moment, feeling downright depressed. I hope those Dementors aren't getting to me. I wish I could be out of here – I can never get any sleep with all these groans of mad and depressed people. I thought my mother's snoring was bad, but it's nothing compared to this. Should be used to it by now, really. Better go - I hope I'm alive to write in this next time. If not, just tell me and I'll see what I can do."_

Harry re-read the page several times, and eventually, he turned the many pages over to the middle of the book. 

_"September 1992…_ _There's nothing for me anymore. I wake up every morning, hoping to kick the bucket (again). We all get fed sandwiches once a day, and Dementors patrol the corridors day and night. The things they do to you are unreal. Sometimes I think about how James and I used to joke about this place, believing we'd never come here. He used to say that if I ever got trapped here, he would come and rescue me. When you've been here for as long as I have, you begin to notice how frequently grimy water drips off the walls. I have been watching the bars, too, and it looks as though they've gotten rustier. But is it just me? I don't know anymore – I can't decide. All I know is that I want to get out of Azkaban. If I don't, at least I'll see Padfoot (Hey – I'm stuck in a cell so don't blame me. It's supposed to be Prongs o' course) again." _

The boy-who-lived suddenly felt depressed. How could Sirius even live through that?  He decided to turn the pages again and soon came to another part of the book.

_"October 1993…_ _I managed to escape from that horrible place. I feel awful, though, because I'm so different to everyone else. At least I managed to catch a glimpse of my godson, Harry Potter, two months ago. I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw him – he looks too much like James.  Poor boy, he wouldn't be living with muggles if Pettigrew hadn't betrayed Lily and James. Pettigrew was the only reason why I wanted to escape. He needs to die, and I'm going to commit the murder I was wrongly accused of.  Don't know where I'll go now – probably up north to Hogwarts if I don't get caught. They're already after me, and I'm innocent, really. No one seems to understand, and unless they knew what happened, they will always hate me. I hope I manage to just talk to Harry for a short while – even if he doesn't believe me." _

Harry flicked through the pages again, but he went passed something that caught his eye. He turned back to that page, which was the 1st October 1993, and saw two tiny-written words in black ink at the very edge of the parchment. It was hardly visible, but when the boy held the book up to his face, he could see what the words said.

He's alive 

Confused, Harry continued to flick through the book and eventually came to the last pages. Sirius's writing had become neater to what it was seventeen years ago, but the colour of the ink was exactly the same. 

_"June 1996…_ _I painted my old mum's room this week. I have nothing to do, and it looked gloomy when it was dark purple and black. Might as well make myself at home since this is the only room I'm staying in. Got some new hangings for the four-poster, too. They look nice – so do the new red curtains. Harry isn't too well. He's been getting some horrible press attention and I wish there was something I could do. Poor lad asked if he could stay with me in Grimmuald Place, and Snape isn't being very good to him either. I feel so helpless, being locked up in here. It reminds me of being back in Azkaban, and that feels horrible. Nothing –"_

The writing seemed to stop abruptly, and nothing else was written past that page. Harry knew why. Sirius must have been writing in this very diary before he went to the Department of Mysteries in search of his godson.

But then another thought struck Harry as he remembered something.

"He's alive." 

What could that mean? Why would Sirius write two words in such small writing? Obviously he didn't want anyone to know what it meant. 

Before Harry, Sirius would have been the last person to enter this room, and he even left the window open.

With another sad glance at the small picture on the bedside unit, the boy-who-lived kicked off his shoes, lay down on the bed, and buried his face into the red silk covers. Then, he laid his head on the pillow and fell asleep, tired after memories of his godfather.

****************

**Author's Note:** I apologize for this chapter taking so long. I haven't got much time to write because of visiting my brother all the time, but I do try and type the story as frequently as possible. I haven't forgotten it, you know! 

** Avestia:** You think it's really good? I am delighted. I hope you enjoyed this chapter.

**HarryGryffinGirl:** I will continue, don't worry : - ). 

**lily evans:** Yes, James Potter is alive. I'm glad you liked the cliffhanger.  Voldemort went to the Dursleys himself because, well, I won't say anything. It's part of the story, and you will find out in the other chapters! As for the protection on the house, we'll just say that it was lifted when Petunia left. Yes, something did happen to the Dursleys. I'm glad you like the story!

**Facade1:** Hello! I'm glad you like the story, and I apologize for the chapters taking so long to be uploaded. I haven't had much time to write. Thanks for your review!

**Kurbani:** I'm glad you like the story! Here's the next chapter for you, and I hope it was as good as the others!


	4. Dark corridors and Potion Masters

The Façade of the Truth  
  
Disclaimer: Again, nothing in this story you recognize belongs to me. J.K.Rowling created all the Harry Potter material.  
  
***********  
  
Chapter four - Dark corridors and Potion Masters  
  
"Harry? Harry, please open the door."  
  
Harry Potter opened his eyes slowly, taking in everything around him. Then, he sat bolt upright in bed.  
  
He was still in Sirius Black's colourful room, but someone was knocking on the door and speaking to the boy.  
  
"Harry, I'm sure no one will find out what happened to Sirius's mother. Listen, I've taken the picture down and everything should now be fine," Came the quiet, slightly worried voice of Remus Lupin.  
  
"Lupin? What - what time is it? What day? What year?" the boy said sleepily, his glasses halfway down his nose.  
  
"Oh, I thought something bad had happened to you. If you're all right, then that's fine," The man said, now sounding calm. "The time, you ask? It's twenty-five minutes past ten in the morning, or afternoon, almost, and it is September first today, so I advice you to get a move on. "  
  
Harry collapsed back onto his godfather's bed and sighed deeply, straightening his glasses.  
  
"Thanks, Lupin," He told the man, who was watching him from the keyhole.  
  
"Not a problem, Harry. I told Molly Weasley that you were here and she went to get your school supplies in Diagon Alley yesterday. I think she's going with some of the other Order of the Phoenix members."  
  
"But, I-I -"  
  
"I know you wanted to get them yourself, but you aren't looking very well today. I said that it would be much more appropriate if you stayed with me."  
  
Harry smiled grimly.  
  
"Thanks," He said, as Lupin's eye disappeared from the door. Footsteps could be heard going down the stairs not long after.  
  
The boy glanced to the bedside unit, where his godfather's old diary sat.  
  
"Sirius," he muttered, running a finger down the leather spine of the book. "You promised you would never leave me. Not again!"  
  
But he did, didn't he? Sirius left him when his godson had been most depressed.  
  
Harry sat up quickly. The best thing to do was carry on with his life, wasn't it? His godfather could be just a thing of the past, nothing more, and nothing less. Besides, what sort of father would leave their son in pain?  
  
The stairs outside began to creak, and Lupin's eye appeared again.  
  
"Harry, The Weasleys are downstairs. They want to see you. Please come down."  
  
"I don't feel like it," The boy replied restlessly.  
  
"Some things you have to do even if you don't want to do them. Remember when I resigned from Hogwarts? I didn't want to do it - I just had to."  
  
"I don't have to see the Weasleys, do I?" Harry asked, glaring at the eye.  
  
"Yes. Come on, now."  
  
Sighing, the boy-who-lived got up off the bed, put his shoes on and walked over to the door. Lupin's eye disappeared from the keyhole, and when Harry opened the door, he was standing by the staircase.  
  
"Good morning. I haven't seen you since our little chat," Remus said slowly, looking at the boy in front of him.  
  
"I know . I've been, well, tired," Harry replied, making his way down the stairs and trying not to look at his old Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.  
  
After a few flights of stairs, they both made it into the kitchen where Molly, Ron, Fred and George Weasley were sitting at the table. They all looked at the boy when he entered.  
  
"Harry. We were so worried. Please, never scare us like that again," Molly said, rushing over to Harry and hugging him.  
  
The boy backed away and looked at the woman in disbelief. He was confused and tired, and he didn't feel like talking to anyone at the present time, even though they were all smiling wildly.  
  
"Would you like some breakfast?" Lupin asked, striding over to the table.  
  
"Oh, Lupin, you should make some breakfast for Harry. He really does look like he's hungry, and we don't want him getting any skinnier, do we?"  
  
"Actually," Harry began, trying to back towards the door, "I'm not really that hungry. Yes, I need to pack my things for Hogwarts because I haven't done that yet."  
  
Then, he turned around and left the room, ignoring Mrs Weasley's calls. He noticed, before going up the staircase, that Mrs Black's portrait wasn't there anymore. He wondered what had happened to it.  
  
As he stared at the blank wall, someone bounded in through the door.  
  
"Oh, hello Harry," He or she said, dusting their clothes off.  
  
As the boy spun around, he could see that it was Arthur Weasley. He wore a brown hairy suit and smelled strongly of burned plastic.  
  
"Oh, hello Mr Weasley!" The boy-who-lived said, now backing away from the man and making his way upstairs.  
  
"What's the matter? Anything wrong?"  
  
"Not at all, not at all," Harry replied.  
  
Then, with one quick glance at the man, he sprinted up the stairs, not wanting to speak to anyone else. He felt confused and discarded for some reason, and he had a sinking feeling in his stomach.  
  
He entered Sirius Black's room quickly, slammed the door shut and locked it, using a key that was resting on the chest-of-drawers. He didn't want anyone to see him - he wanted to stay in his godfather's untouched room.  
  
He lay down, once again, on the bed, glaring at the leather-bound diary on the bedside unit and wondering if Sirius really had written it.  
  
"That's stupid - of course he wrote it. What am I thinking?"  
  
Harry continued to stare at the book, and he began to grow drowsy. His head fell against the pillow and he fell asleep again, not realising that he was already late for the train. He slept for hours, forgotten by the Order of the Phoenix. Even when it began to grow dark outside, he was sleeping, dreaming of what would have happened if Sirius hadn't died. He went in and out of the boy's dreams without saying anything, although he smiled sometimes as if he knew Harry had read his diary.  
  
Then, someone knocked on the door. Harry opened his eyes quickly and looked at the cat-shaped clock on the wall. It was now seven o'clock in the evening. The knock came at the door again.  
  
"Open this door," someone said loudly.  
  
Harry sat groggily up from the bed and walked over to the door, scratching his head. He unlocked the door, turned the knob and someone pushed their way into the room immediately. They dusted their black robes off and turned to the boy, sneering, but their face was full of malice.  
  
"Mr Potter ." he muttered, looking swiftly over to the wall, expecting something to be there. He frowned when it didn't appear, however.  
  
"I suppose you couldn't tell me so much as to what hour this is?" he questioned darkly, ignoring the small smile for the younger boy.  
  
"It's...seven, sir."  
  
This seemed to satisfy Snape (it was at that moment that he noticed the cat clock on the wall), because he nodded swiftly and started pacing the floor.  
  
"The headmaster, well, wishes me to give you a memorandum, Mr Potter," he stated, raising an eyebrow at the lack of cleanliness in the room.  
  
"And dear boy. Have you never heard of a house elf before?" He asked sarcastically, picking up a sock delicately off a wing backed chair - Harry strode over to him and snatched the sock away with a slight tinge to his cheeks.  
  
He muttered something, making Snape raise an eyebrow yet again.  
  
"English, Potter. If you could be so kind," he replied, folding his arms - Harry looked defiantly up at the hawk.  
  
"I was in the middle of, uh, cleaning when you arrived."  
  
"You were sleeping, Potter."  
  
Harry grumbled something underneath his breath (Snape didn't question) - and then frowned.  
  
"You wanted something, sir?"  
  
"Quick to the point, aren't we?" Severus murmured, obviously deep in thought over something - he remembered his company however when he cleared his throat and looked down at the degrading figure (Harry).  
  
"Potter, the headmaster has -"  
  
"Hard, professor?" Harry asked, earning a scornful look for the elder man.  
  
"What, Potter?" he spat, narrowing his jet eyes slightly - he felt a jab of pain in his arm.  
  
"Is it hard to talk to a little creep like me?" Harry asked sarcastically.  
  
Snape raised an eyebrow, and then strode over to the door, his robes billowing from behind - he turned around to face Harry.  
  
"I'll be back at midnight. Dress warmly and pack your indispensable items before that time - I will not have the time to wait for some diminutive boy to pack his clothes while he should have done that while I was not present."  
  
And with that, the old bat left; leaving a dumbfounded Harry ogling at the vase the man's robe had knocked over.  
  
When a tired and shaken Snape arrived back, Harry was snoozing in a chair. Snape looked around quickly and spotted the adolescent before striding over and pinching the boy tightly on the shoulder - Harry gasped and opened his eyes to look into the face of a smirking Snape.  
  
"I told you to be ready," Snape stated, folding his arms and making sure that a curtain of black hair was covering the side of the man's face - Harry, however, noticed the gash.  
  
"What happened?" he asked, sitting up and reaching up to move the man's hair - but two large hands grabbed his and stopped him.  
  
"None of your business, Potter," Snape stated, sounding like poison in a wound.  
  
"It is, sir. You go away and then you come back a few hours later with a-"  
  
"Silence!" Snape spat, pushing Harry's hands away which caused him to fall back into the chair - the elder turned around and picked up the rucksack lying next to the wall - before throwing it into the fireplace and whispering 'Gryffindor Common Room' before it faded away.  
  
Harry gasped.  
  
"Floo-"  
  
"Not Floo Powder, Potter. Something else," Snape replied darkly, before taking one last glance at the room, striding over to Harry and picking him up and throwing him over his shoulder.  
  
"Oi! Let me go!" Harry yelled, punching the man's back with all his might (not a lot, unfortunately) and he was walking out of the room and down the steps to the front door  
  
Snape put Harry down into the fireplace just inside the room adjacent to the door - he smirked before flicking a few strands of his hair away from his eyes.  
  
"Don't. Move," Snape whispered, taking out a clear bottle from the inside of his robes and throwing some of the liquid onto Harry.  
  
"Daru donjon," the man murmured, before Harry slowly faded away into the darkness.  
  
---------  
  
Harry hit the cold floor with an 'ouch!' - he rubbed his head and looked around at his surroundings - it appeared he had come in to a cell covered in mould.  
  
"Eugh!" Harry muttered, pulling himself up and rubbing his cold arms.  
  
The cell was dark, and it seemed to be more of a dark corridor than a room - there was a torch lit above Harry's head that he took carefully and started to circle the circular place. The room was in stone, and slimy water dripped down from (what Harry supposed) was the ceiling - as Harry walked down the long passage he noticed the stone floor was very worn, and there were several heavy iron doors he passed that were shut. One, however, was not.  
  
He went into the room and saw that it was like the one he had started off in, except there was a huge staircase leading upwards and a dark door slightly open just behind it - there was a pungent smell and a murmuring voice which appeared to be coming from inside of it.  
  
"E-excuse me?" Harry called out - he heard a clatter and someone swear coming from the room, and then the door opened slightly and a head poked out. From what Harry could see, he had long black hair (it had swung around as he had poked his head out) and looked a lot like Snape. The man lifted an eyebrow and then appeared out from behind the door. He wore black robes, and a slightly puzzled look.  
  
"Now - what would a young student be doing down here at a time like this?" he asked softly, making Harry gulp.  
  
"Shouldn't a student be up at the school, hm? Fast asleep in his nice warm bed instead of down in the dark corridors of the undergrowth," the man's voice trailed off - if anything, he sounded more like acid than Snape.  
  
"I was brought here by someone."  
  
"Snake?"  
  
"Eh?" Harry asked, puzzled by the man's question - the man curled his lips slightly.  
  
"Were you brought down by a Slytherin?" the man asked again, busying himself by flicking off some invisible dust on his robes.  
  
"No! Well - sort of. The head of Slytherin, Professor Snape," Harry replied.  
  
The man's hand stopped moving and the man looked up, his black eyes narrowing.  
  
"Severus brought you here?" he sneered, watching as Harry nodded - he let out a breath and opened the door wider.  
  
"You better come in then."  
  
The room was, if possible, one of the most magnificent Harry had ever seen - it was about as bid as the Gryffindor common room and on one the far wall a black desk with several chairs scattered around it was positioned. The room smelled strongly of mixed spices, and on all four walls it was covered with different bottles of, the only thing Harry could assume, stuff.  
  
"Well - finished goggling yet?" Harry heard someone say from behind him, he shivered and watched as the man came out from behind him and walked over to the huge desk - where smoke was billowing from a large gold cauldron.  
  
"Sir?" Harry asked timidly to the man, who had already proceed to carry on with whatever he was doing. He looked up when Harry spoke and lifted a slender eyebrow.  
  
"May I ask," Harry replied, edging towards the desk slowly. "Who you are?"  
  
The man grunted.  
  
"Pass me that jar of green blobs."  
  
Harry looked to his right and saw a jar, about 30 centimetres high, with dark green blobs changing shape and swirling around inside. He felt his insides squirm as he picked the heavy jar up and passed it to the man.  
  
"You just need to call me sir, Mr Potter," he replied darkly, taking out a scoop of the green stuff and placing it carefully into the cauldron, which made it hiss and crackle.  
  
Two knocks came at the door and then Harry heard footsteps going up the staircase - the man smiled slightly and continued with his work for a few moments before he rubbed his hands together and offered Harry a chair next to the black desk.  
  
"I've almost completed this, well, task. When I have finished, I shall take you back up to the school," the man sneered softly, stirring the cauldron clockwise with a large, grimy-looking wooden spoon.  
  
Harry opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it and then closed it again.  
  
"You believed you could go back up there on your own, yes?" the man waited for Harry to nod glumly.  
  
"It has gone past the witches' hour. It would be safer if I take you up as far as Severus' potions dungeons and then you can do what you please. I assume you know your way well enough in the dark, yes?" the man smoothly stated with an air of amusement, turning the cauldron 90 degrees west before continuing to stir anti clockwise.  
  
When he finished, he strode over to another room and went inside.  
  
When he returned, he walked over to a slightly worried Harry and looked down at him, his full height causing Harry to look up at him - he handed the youth a rolled scroll.  
  
"When we have reached the dungeons - you are to go to Severus' rooms and give him this," he stated quietly.  
  
"But, sir! Snape-"  
  
"Professor Snape, Mr Potter."  
  
"Professor Snape went somewhere and then he came back with half of his face missing!" Harry hurried, earning the older man to scowl.  
  
"Half of his face, missing?" he asked softly, before Harry nodded.  
  
The older man became lost in thought for a moment, his frown clearly deepening and his eyes darkening. He looked up again and nodded swiftly.  
  
"Come," he said, striding over towards the great wooden door and opening it - letting Harry pass before he shut it again.  
  
They walked slowly up the long, narrow stone spiral staircase - there were torches lining the walls on about every three steps, and Harry had guessed they had passed at least twenty five before the man spoke again.  
  
"May I ask a question?" he asked softly, holding the rope, which led up the staircase and panting slightly.  
  
"Of course," Harry replied, slightly taken aback that anyone would ask.  
  
"Why were you late arriving to school?"  
  
Harry sighed - this would be the first person to ask, but then there would be the rest of the school, not forgetting Hermione and Ron.  
  
"I, uh, fell asleep," he muttered, earning the older man to smile slightly.  
  
"Asleep? In you're late godfather's room, I presume?"  
  
Harry looked up at him, his face full of perplexity, although the man seemed to know what he was thinking.  
  
"Don't be afraid - I used to be on familiar terms with your godfather, Sirius Black. I used to know him at school, although that is a dissimilar story," The man said quietly.  
  
"But how did you -"  
  
The man looked down at him knowingly.  
  
"It would be easier if you did not ask any more questions, Mr Potter. The whole affair is, indeed, very complex to identify with." Then, he began to walk faster up the steps so that Harry had to run after him.  
  
When they reached the top (Harry had counted a total of about 100 torches on either side of the wall and every now and again he had spotted a closed iron door which, at each time, the man had smiled ironically at and then continued to walk slowly up the ascending spiral staircase), the man looked around at the deserted corridor. Harry looked around too - but he noticed that the tapestries showing bloody battle scenes and the dull bricks looked very unfamiliar to him.  
  
He noticed the man carry on walking and he yearned to actually walk beside him instead of behind and in the man's covering shadow.  
  
They continued to walk up the long, dark corridor (which was quite wide, in Harry's opinion) until it became lighter and everything seemed to look more like the school Harry knew.  
  
They went through a doorway (no door) and walked into a room Harry instantly knew - the man kneeling in front of a green tapestry looked up and frowned at the visitors before continuing to do whatever he had been doing before the intruders arrived.  
  
"You've finally found it then, Potter," Snape replied sarcastically, his eyes fixed on a table in the picture - Harry felt the man move next to him and then he moved closer to his Potion's Master.  
  
"What are you doing, sir?" Harry asked mildly, crouching down besides the man who frowned deeper - Harry could smell a mix of cinnamon and lavender radiating from the man.  
  
"That, dear boy, is none of your business," he replied curtly, looking very closely at a book on the table.  
  
Harry sighed and looked around at the Slytherin common room, looking at the chair where Malfoy had brought him and Ron in their second year and then back to the tapestry of someone who was sitting at a wooden table.  
  
"Severus," an oily voice interrupted Harry's musings and he looked up to see the man who had brought him up the stairs standing over them both, like a hawk.  
  
It was only when Snape and this man were almost next to each other that Harry noticed they looked almost the same. Almost - the man's skin was more of an almond colour than Harry's potion master, and his hands were bigger.  
  
"Severus," the man repeated silkily, and Harry watched as an amused grin rose on his face.  
  
Snape just stared ahead, but lifted an eyebrow anyway.  
  
"Yes?" he whispered menacingly, turning his head slowly to look at the man with a look that has killed many of the students.  
  
The older man just chuckled.  
  
"Don't try it, my boy." Which made the colour rise into Snape's cheeks.  
  
The two men looked darkly at each other for what seemed an eternity, and then footsteps could be heard growing louder - until a muttered word and then the portrait swinging open could be heard.  
  
"Well, well, well. Isn't this little get together cosy?" he heard a man say sarcastically, and all three of them turned to look at the flustered man who had just entered the common room.  
  
Lucius Malfoy had retuned from Azkaban.  
  
--------------  
  
Author's Note - I am deeply sorry for taking so long to post this chapter. I haven't forgotten it, although I seemed to be suffering from slight Writer's Block. Please forgive me. This chapter is hardly interesting, but I promise the next chapter won't take so long and will be more motivating.  
  
Reviews:  
  
ButterflyKisses: I'm glad you like the story! No, Lupin isn't James, although it would be more interesting if he was, I suppose. I hope to include James Potter in either chapter six or seven, so it won't be that long. Please be aware that he would have changed a bit.  
  
Vash: Sweet? Thanks. Yes, I will continue to update - no doubt about that. I am deeply sorry for the chapter taking so long.  
  
Oceanjewel: No, I'm not that old! Well, I'm not an adult, anyhow. I am pleased you enjoy reading the story. It is a shame that it isn't turning out how I originally planned it. It's sweet that you think it's good enough to be published, although I couldn't! Nothing I write is as good as J.K.Rowling's work, I can tell you. Thanks for your review!  
  
wuzup13579: Don't worry, like I said before, it won't be long until Harry finds James. Please keep reading and reviewing!  
  
HarryGryffinGirl: Yes, James Potter does live. That's whom Sirius meant, anyway.  
  
Sfo: Good? Thank you so much. 


	5. An Important Answer

The Façade of the Truth  
  
Disclaimer: Again, nothing in this story you recognize belongs to me. J.K.Rowling created all the Harry Potter material.  
  
***********  
  
Chapter Five - An Important Answer  
  
(Snape's POV)  
  
I received the call as I was explaining to that Potter brat; all I could do after I left the boy in the lurch was apparate to my manor to retrieve my black robe. The robes that wrapped around my placid skin and caused me to turn into a monster that would destroy innocent lives and laugh about it.  
  
The burning became too intense, so I pulled the note I always leave for Dumbledore out of the drawer and prayed that tonight I would get to Hogwarts alive. Apparating without a visualised destination was a nerve-racking business, I had decided long ago. Sufficiently nerve-racking that it - for a very brief moment - took my mind off what might be awaiting me at the end of the trip. That distraction, and the desire to make a convincingly smooth appearance, almost made me forget everything I had been taught myself about this merciless game. Almost.  
  
-----(End of POV)------  
  
------(Death Eater Meeting)-----  
  
Severus Snape apparated into a dark clearing - he likes to hold his meetings at night, preferably in the open air - the lack of any fixed location makes him that much harder to track; he heard his father's stern voice in him head, coldly instructing him. His eyes, already accustomed to the night, quickly made out figures within the shadows, grouped in a loose circle. Moistening his dry lips, he wondered where the Dark Lord was.  
  
As if the thought had truly alerted the owner of the name, a hissing voice sounded into the darkness.  
  
"Severus. I'm so glad that you could join us."  
  
And all thoughts of conjecture fled.  
  
He sank to his knees, obeying the smooth voice in the back of his head, unwilling to examine how much of him action sprang from other impulses within him. He crawled across the ground towards the standing figure. With a hand that felt as if it was trembling very fractionally, he grasped the hem of Voldemort's robe and kissed it. He could hardly swallow again at this point, and betray his nervousness.  
  
He murmured, "master..." his dry throat roughening his voice. Then he backed away, stood up and took a place in the circle, hoping to remain as inconspicuous as possible.  
  
Voldemort watched him intently as he moved into his chosen position and for a hideous moment he thought that he was going to address him. Stay out of the limelight. Don't pull too much attention to yourself or you'll blow everything up - his father again. Then there was the swish of a cloak in the darkness and Voldemort's attention was distracted. He turned away, and it was as if a tangible force had been removed from him.  
  
The new arrival gave him the opportunity to try to get his bearings, as much as that was possible. Concentrate, he told himself firmly. Note the details. It may be useful when you get back. Yes, that's it. Think of getting back. Think in terms of survival. He made himself look around, deliberately recounting the scene to himself in his head, distancing his mind from anything that hinted of emotion or reaction.  
  
It was a clearing, that much he had established. The air was still chilly although the rain appeared to have ceased. In fact, the ground he had crawled over had been dry, although cold and hard. He moved his head as if easing a stiff neck, and tried to sneak a look over the treetops at the sky; it was clear and his brief glance showed a familiar pattern of stars. He surmised that they were probably in England, possibly towards the South. The air had a crisp woody smell to it, and in the distance he thought he heard a very soft whinny of a deer. That would integrally place them somewhere in the New Forest, he thought, unable to stifle a fleeting sense of triumph at having solved a problem, even under these mind exploding conditions.  
  
Heartened by that small piece of analysis, Severus turned his attention to the rest of the scene in front of him. The other figures in the darkness were waiting as he did; in silence, waiting for instruction. The darkness swept past them, echoing their pasts and their presents...their feelings of regret and happiness and carrying it away on its' swift back. Nothing more and nothing less.as it always was.  
  
It's a shame staff meetings aren't a bit more like this, he found himself thinking and then felt his lips curl slightly underneath the slightly torn mask at the thought.  
  
This is what Dumbledore wanted.him to feel this insecurity and importunate reminder of who he was; what he had done to cause him to feel this everlasting agony in the pits of his stomach whenever he saw his ostensible master.  
  
It wasn't Severus himself that had told him, begged him to leave the Death Eaters or turn into a spy for the Order - his father had sat him down in his study one evening when Severus had come back to his quarters battered and bruised from not doing as the Dark Lord enquired, and it was there that Severus' new verve was put into motion.  
  
The thought of his father gave him an adverse pause. His father expected him to get through this - to return to Hogwarts as the snarling monster that was always that little too 'dark' for anybody's liking, the sarcastic 'idiot' that would take points away for no reason and the one who hated the students and moulded them to his own aptness.  
  
Yes.the man who had failed and had no one for the whole of his life; suddenly had his father watching over his every move, the man who had decided long ago that Severus wasn't worth the dirt on the aristocrat's well tailored shoe.  
  
His chance to pursue this insight was cut short by Voldemort's voice; clearly all the expected attendees had arrived.  
  
"Gather closer, my Death Eaters, for we transact important business this evening."  
  
The figures in the shadows drew closer. Severus did as they did, noting that they were thirteen in total. Were it not for the gruesome subject matter, it could have been any committee business meeting anywhere in any world, Muggle or magical. There were details of recent activities, persons that the Death Eaters were watching and some heavily cryptic hints of things to come in the future. Severus concentrated intently on memorising every word, not knowing if some chance remark would make sense to Dumbledore.  
  
"And what of Hogwarts, Severus? How goes our work there?" He felt the full force of Voldemort's personality fall on him  
  
His throat went dry again and he was conscious of the mask sitting uncomfortably on his sweaty face. Deliberately thinking past what was about to happen, he raised his head proudly as he had always done.  
  
"It progresses, my Lord. I see many promising candidates in Slytherin House." His heart was beating so fast that he was astonished that it couldn't be heard in his voice. He tensed his body and forced his voice into his throat to keep the volume and steadiness. It hoarsened the tone painfully, but Voldemort didn't seem to notice anything amiss.  
  
"And the plans of the Other Side. What of them?"  
  
Severus snarled softly to himself.  
  
"The Old Fool amuses himself with parties and jokes and sweets, master, believing that these will be enough to hold back the inevitable. He has no strategy and no plan. He seems to place his entire faith in that Potter brat; who, deferentially, has been feeling rather ill due to his Godfather's dear departure," he mockingly finished, a sudden glint of wickedness in his eyes.  
  
He hoped that was enough.  
  
Voldemort smiled and his eyes sparked; it made the hairs prickle on Severus' neck.  
  
"Ah yes, Harry Potter. How is he faring, other than the obvious, at the moment?"  
  
Snape smirked under his mask and breathed in softly.  
  
"Arrogant as ever, master" he managed, a tone of sardonic wit beneath the covers. "He believes that he is a match for you and his ill-bred companions encourage that ignorant belief. He has become apathetic and lackadaisical."  
  
That piece of information appeared to delight Voldemort.  
  
"Splendid," he crooned. "An arrogant opponent is a weak opponent. He will learn his error and die."  
  
"Of course, master," he murmured under cover of the sounds of approval from the other Death Eaters. He braced himself for more questions, but the Dark Lord appeared to be satisfied with his responses.  
  
He stepped away from him and back into the centre of the circle, although his gaze did not move from his direction, nor did his pleasure appear to diminish.  
  
"And now we come to the serious business of the evening." He didn't dare look away in case it was interpreted as weakness, or worse - disrespect. "My Death Eaters, it is my sad duty to inform you that we have... a traitor in our midst."  
  
Severus went ice cold, his earlier poise evaporating, leaving the carefully buried terror exposed and quivering. He heard snatches of Voldemort's remarks past the roaring in his ears and the certain knowledge that he was about to die.  
  
- Information - Other Side - trusted - betrayal - death - He wondered if it would be quick. He wondered if it would hurt. He wondered if Dumbledore would ever forgive him.  
  
Voldemort had apparently finished his diatribe, for his gaze swept the company.  
  
"Step forward - Rudd."  
  
Severus could feel the muscles in his leg tense; the slight shifting of weight to one side that prepared the body to move forward without losing its balance. He felt every single tiny impulse through his nervous system, saw himself take that literally fatal step into the circle, before his brain shut the process down with the improbable information that Voldemort had spoken someone else's name.  
  
Mercifully, the attention of the rest of the Death Eaters was focussed on the figure that took a few staggering paces to collapse on its knees before Voldemort; his slight shift in position went unnoticed. He, too, watched the man - Rudd, a distant, detached part of his mind remembered standing next to him the first time he banished his then clear forearm to the Dark Lord- as he alternately denied his faithlessness and begged for his life. Voldemort let him continue for a few moments - long enough that he might think that there was some chance of mercy - but both cries and plea were ultimately ignored.  
  
He had the answers to at least two of his questions. It was not going to be quick this time. Neither was it going to be painless.  
  
He watched as the man who was Rudd writhed under Crucio until all that could be seen was a bloody mass of crumpled tissue, and fingers where the bone was showing through from him scratching at his face and floor.  
  
He watched as his mask and hood fell away, revealing a vaguely familiar face - now scarred and shoddily bruised.  
  
He watched, wondering whether the same fate awaited him, when Voldemort had tired of this particular sport.  
  
His mind gradually dissociated itself from any feeling that was part of him to such an extent that he felt as if he were becoming two separate people.  
  
It was within this bizarre stereo world that he registered the words 'Avada Kedavra' and knew that it was finally over for Rudd. Voldemort looked at the robe-covered carcass in front of him, and kicked it once.  
  
"Avery, Crabbe - deal with this." Two figures moved forward quickly, murmuring obedience.  
  
Severus waited, still braced against the pain that had not yet come. Voldemort looked around the assembled Death Eaters again, this time with a hint of fatigue and almost of distaste. But, as a collection of breaths being let out erupted - he smiled unnervingly. And.that was never a good thing.  
  
"Learn from this night," he hissed. "Treachery will not be tolerated. Now go. I weary of the sight of you - but Severus, my friend, you will stay."  
  
From the detached part of him, he noted that the other Death Eaters were beginning to move away, leaving only Avery and Crabbe dealing with the remains of Rudd. Clearly, they had no more desire than he to remain in the presence of their lord. However, he waited until it was only Voldemort and himself in the clearing before he heard Voldemort chuckle softly as he looked up into the starry sky.  
  
"One of these days, Severus - I shall be great, won't I?" he asked softly, turning his head to look at the younger man before frowning slightly.  
  
"Unmask yourself, my friend. I long to stare into your face to see what you truly feel." and Severus did just that - letting the warm material of his mask fall into his hand before placing it into his robe's pocket.  
  
"You are great, my lord. And if that brat didn't get in the way - you could be greater still," he finished, setting his face into a neutral expression and looking the man in the eyes.  
  
"Yes - Potter - the boy who destroyed my life and my greatness, but not for long." Voldemort muttered, staring down at the ground with a hard expression.  
  
Snape frowned.  
  
"My lord - ?" "The Third Resistance has been recruiting new followers; and soon, the Potter boy will be like putty in my hands," the Dark Lord replied, grasping something in his hand and tightening his hand into a fist.  
  
"The Third Resistance? But, the Order of the Phoenix destroyed it."  
  
"They only destroyed the followers - they did not destroy the heart of it - the knowledge. And when Lucius arrives with them, it will begin."  
  
"Lucius Malfoy, my lord?" Voldemort nodded. "But, how is that possible if he is in Azkaban?"  
  
"He escaped and has been in America for the last few weeks - he placed a concealing charm on his cell to make the aurors believe that he was still in there - but he longs for revenge on the people who put him in there," Snape's master finished, staring at him intently for a few moments before continuing.  
  
"Now go, my child. Go and see to Dumbledore and the annoying whims of those students held at the school.before the old fool suspects something," he whispered, clutching Severus' shoulder before waving a hand of dismissal at him.  
  
Copying the earlier movements of the death eaters, he backed away until he was entirely hidden by the trees, telling himself that all he had to do was get back to Hogwarts, all he had to do was perform one simple apparation, all he had to do was stay standing long enough to get away from this place.  
  
He closed his eyes and visualised the spot from which he had departed from time and time again, where he had first left when he was oh so young.  
  
When he opened his eyes again, it was cold and raining and the boundary wall of Hogwarts stood in front of him.  
  
And the world shattered around him, and the fragments of mind and feeling returned to crashing wholeness.  
  
(End of Death Eater Meeting)  
  
(Cont. from chapter 4)  
  
The two men looked darkly at each other for what seemed an eternity, and then footsteps could be heard growing louder - until a muttered word and then the portrait swinging open could be heard.  
  
"Well, well, well. Isn't this little get together cosy?" he heard a man say sarcastically, and all three of them turned to look at the flustered man who had just entered the common room.  
  
Lucius Malfoy had retuned from Azkaban.  
  
The silence in the room was almost deafening - obviously it was a bigger shock to Severus than anyone else in the room, but he pulled his face into a neutral expression anyway and got up to shake the aristocrat's hand.  
  
"What a surprise, Lucius - I wasn't expecting you to return just yet," he stated, allowing the man to smile evilly before sweeping his gaze over the boy kneeling by the picture.  
  
"And Mr Potter - what a pleasure," the elder man whispered, a tone of something hidden deep within his superior voice.  
  
"Mr Malfoy," the elder Snape said, shaking Lucius's hand too.  
  
"Does Dumbledore know that you are here, Lucius?" Severus asked, his eyes darting quickly from his friend to the boy leaning against a green leather chair.  
  
Lucius turned his head back to the man.  
  
"No - I'm not here for very long - I need to ask if I may discuss something with Mr Potter. Alone," he replied swiftly, his eyes sweeping back over Harry - who looked defiantly back at him.  
  
"Why ever would you want to speak to him alone, Mr Malfoy?" The older potions master asked softly, earning a frown from Severus.  
  
"Must there be a reason, Mr Snape?" Lucius replied gingerly, before smiling strangely at the youth.  
  
Severus seemed to take all this into account, and looked as if he was going to say something - but then he changed his mind and cleared his dry throat.  
  
"Will you go after you have spoken with him?" he asked swiftly, earning a slow nod from the blonde man.  
  
"Oh, I assure you Severus - Mr Potter will not want me here when I have finished with what I have got to say," he whispered, before smiling evilly again. Harry stood up and nodded.  
  
"I'll walk him to the main entrance, Professor," Harry stated, earning a raised eyebrow from Lucius.  
  
"Indeed."  
  
Harry sighed softly and then walked towards the dungeons, whereas Lucius Malfoy followed behind him - his grey cape billowing out slightly from behind him as he turned a sharp corner and quickly caught up with the youth.  
  
"Mr Potter."  
  
"Shut up. I'm not speaking to you," Harry said petulantly, still striding up the long dark corridor - hoping to get rid of Lucius Malfoy.  
  
"You already are, boy."  
  
Harry stopped dead in his tracks and turned slowly towards the man, backing into a wall slightly and frowning.  
  
"What?" Harry asked stubbornly, folding his arms as he tried to stare at anything other than the overpowering man towering above him.  
  
"I have some information that might be of use to you, Mr Potter. I-"  
  
"Shut up!" Harry yelled, facing the man and yelling into his face - Lucius looked down at him and raised another eyebrow.  
  
"I hate you! You killed my godfather - the only person who truly cared about me and what I-was-doing!" Harry yelled again, kicking the ancient wall with each pause of breath - only stopping when Malfoy grasped Harry's upper arms so tightly that he couldn't move. The elder man bent down.  
  
"Kicking school property - my, my - I don't think the headmaster will be too pleased when he finds out, do you?" he whispered into Harry's ear, earning a thrill of delight as he felt the boy tense up at the sound of Dumbledore's title.  
  
"You know," Lucius continued, a slight smile playing on his lips. "I deal with little urchins like you for breakfast - and I can do far worse to you than just yell."  
  
"Oh, yeah - like what?" Harry laughed bitterly, and Lucius spun him around to face him, still holding onto his arms like a crab.  
  
"Like the truth," the man threatened, making Harry lift an eyebrow.  
  
"Oooo, I'm so scared!" Harry reply sarcastically, making the man scowl.  
  
"What if I told you something that defied everything that you had thought was true?" he whispered, adding just the right amount of venom to his voice.  
  
"Then I'd say you were a right old nutter," Harry retorted, ignoring the fury in the man's eyes that passed in a second.  
  
He looked as if he was going to do something - because the pain in Harry's arms increased and the man clenched his teeth ever so slightly.  
  
But all he did was look up and smile, before releasing one of Harry's arms (they both felt dead, anyway) and whispering so softly into his ear:  
  
"Your father is alive."  
  
Harry was silent for a moment, before he started to laugh quietly until it turned into a loud cackle and he couldn't catch his breath, making Malfoy snarl and drop Harry to the stone ground. He continued laughing, so Lucius walked off.  
  
"Wait!" Harry called after him, chasing after the man that didn't stop. "You mean to tell me that you came all the way here, from Azkaban, to tell me some joke about my dad being alive? Ha! The dementors have done you more worse than good, haven't they?" Harry joked, before the man fumbled about in one of the pockets in his robe and passed something to Harry.  
  
"Here. Believe or dispose of the knowledge," The man snarled, before walking swiftly up the entrance hall and out of sight.  
  
It was only when Harry had opened the entrance to the Gryffindor Common Room and looked down into his hand at what the man gave him, that he actually went numb.  
  
Inside a window, was a man that distinctly looked like a thirty-six-year- old Harry Potter with a banner above his head that said, in large, black letters, 'Congratulations James And Sophie On Your Eleventh Anniversary!'  
  
------------  
  
Harry Potter lay on his four-poster bed in the darkness - all hopes of falling into a slumber exiled at about three a.m. in the morning as he stared down at the picture in his hand.  
  
He had been sitting like that for the last 5 hours - just staring at the slightly torn photograph in his hand without moving or making any sound whatsoever.  
  
He couldn't believe - it just wasn't right that his father was somewhere else, and he hadn't even told Harry that he was still alive or even come back to claim him. No, it couldn't be true, could it? But there it was - the evidence - showing that it was, in fact, quite true.  
  
He crumpled the picture that had been given to him about a week ago and balled his hand into a tight fist, all emotions gone except that one - ebbing away in the back of his mind and eating at the feelings there.  
  
Four different pitches of noises could be heard softly coming from the other end of Harry's curtains, so he opened them and looked around in the darkness - Neville was whimpering something softly in his sleep and was turning over, Seamus was snoring loudly and Ron.Ron wasn't there.  
  
For one brief moment Harry thought wildly that the Dark Lord had killed him and taken him away - but then he steadied himself and got out slowly from the bed to walk down to the common room, dropping the picture on the cold wooden floor soundlessly.  
  
"Ron?" Harry muttered into the darkness, throwing himself into a chair that he felt around for - until he heard the familiar grunt from his companion and then a muttered 'lumos' before a light switched on.  
  
Ron was sitting on the large, red sofa, his elbows resting on the coffee table in front of him and his head buried in his hands. However, he looked up at the sound of footsteps and squinted at the bright light.  
  
"Harry?" he said slowly. "Harry - you should be asleep."  
  
The boy-who-lived walked over to the sofa and sat down next to his friend, although he didn't say anything.  
  
"I couldn't sleep," he said after a while, his gaze fixed on the fireplace, where only a few shining embers remained. He remembered how Sirius's head had suddenly appeared in the same place less than a year ago; how he said that he assumed someone had thought he was 'a funny-shaped log'. Warm tears prickled to his eyes, but he wiped them away, hoping that Ron didn't see.  
  
Memories of Sirius, some too horrible to imagine, came flooding back into the boy's mind. His godfather's smiling face as he pushed the shaggy, black hair out of his eyes carelessly; him smiling at his parents' wedding; when he transformed into a huge, black dog to try and ward a certain werewolf away; his crazy grin while he was eating chicken bones in a cave hideout near Hogsmeade.  
  
A tear - a single tear - streamed down Harry's smooth cheek. He wiped it away quickly, although the lump that had suddenly entered his throat did not go away.  
  
"I'm going for a walk," he said quietly, in a rather raucous voice. He looked at Ron. "You better get back up to bed - I'm sure if anyone woke up and found you were gone, they'd start worrying."  
  
"But Harry -"  
  
"Don't worry about following me. If Snape catches me, it'll be my own fault."  
  
The thought of Snape caused Harry to stop slightly in his step. Harry hadn't really talked to the Potions master since he had come back with Julian, the man's father, a week before.  
  
Harry hadn't seen Mr Malfoy since he turned his world upside down. All the boy had been thinking about over the last week was the photo Lucius had given Harry - the photo that seemed to enjoy eating away at the boy's life and what he believed was the truth.  
  
But now it was time to unearth the true reality - and the only person who would now that was currently a dangerous vampire running around the school.  
  
But the truth needed to be known.  
  
He looked at the boy beside him, who was frowning and looking straight ahead up the staircase, then back at his companion.  
  
"Go on - I won't be long, I swear," the boy-who-lived said, as if reading his mind.  
  
After what seemed an eternity, Ron nodded glumly and muttered "G'night" - before he sat up and turned to the staircase, the sound of his heavy footsteps echoing slightly as Harry stared at the boy's invisible retreating back.  
  
Harry walked, with his lit wand held in front of him, through the portrait hole (where the Fat Lady was peacefully sleeping), down a flight of steps and down another dark corridor. He hated Snape - but he alone was the only person at Hogwarts who could know about James, surely? They went to school together, after all. Sirius would not be happy if he knew his godson was going to 'Snivellus' for help.  
  
After a few minutes, loud footsteps - swift footsteps - could be heard coming up the same hall as the boy was in. Then a swish of a cloak was heard, and two eyes gleamed through the darkness. Luckily, they weren't red. A figure, a tall figure, came towards Harry, and a bright light suddenly appeared.  
  
It looked like a much older Severus Snape, although it had to be younger than Julian. He didn't sneer at the boy in front of him, who had his wand raised up to the man's pale face.  
  
"A student? In the middle of the night?" He said softly, his eyes shining. "Down near the cold dungeons, probably tired and weak, with no real light at hand? You must be Mr Harry Potter."  
  
Harry nodded, and the man began walking further down the corridor, his robes swishing. He turned back round and beckoned to the boy.  
  
"I don't bite, or, like my father and son, suck any blood out of blameless onlookers."  
  
The boy walked forwards, and the man held out his hand for him to shake.  
  
"My name is Alexander Julius Theodore Magnus Marmaduke Snape, and do not insist on telling me your own name, for I do know who you are."  
  
He turned and faced the cold stone wall. Then, he pushed against it and part of the wall immediately opened. Harry could see a corridor in front, and the man beckoned for the boy to come closer and look deeper into it.  
  
It was quite narrow (and a smell of cold air filled his nostrils), with torches lining the long stonewall on one side and non-moving portraits of people on the other.  
  
He started to walk swiftly down the corridor, to keep up with Alexander, and went down the five steps at the turning. The next corridor, almost identical to the last, had plenty of other hallways protruding from its' centre and running down the middle. They walked down another flight of stone steps and into another corridor, darker than the other two, with a low ceiling, then, Alexander stopped suddenly at a brown door, holding his arm out for Harry to stop. The man pulled a rusty loop of old-looking keys out of his robe pocket, fumbled around for the right one, and put a key - the largest one - into the brass keyhole. Then, he pushed the door open.  
  
Two dark green sofas stood around a large, open fireplace that had a mahogany mantelpiece, and the thick carpet was also dark green. A crystal chandelier hung from the sloping ceiling. At the other end of the room, opposite to where the wizards were standing, was a door that had been left ajar. From what Harry could see, inside was a large, oak desk with a leather chair in front.  
  
"This, as you may already know, is my abode for the school term," Alexander said softly, walking into the room. He looked at the student. "Do come in and make yourself at home. I would like to know the reason for why you are wondering the school corridors after dark."  
  
Harry nodded, walked into the room and looked around, his mind racing. The photograph of his father was clutched in his robe pocket. He then turned to the man, who was now putting some logs of wood into the fireplace. Alexander turned to face the boy again after igniting the wood, causing a roaring fire to appear in the grate.  
  
"Would you care for a cup of tea?" he asked. "I would ordinarily have whiskey, although I do not think the other teachers, or headmaster, would appreciate me letting you get intoxicated."  
  
Harry nodded.  
  
"I would like one - that is, if you've got enough."  
  
Alexander, who smiled slightly, sat up off the floor and walked over to the second door, which had been left ajar.  
  
"Sit down and make yourself at home." It sounded more like a command than a question.  
  
So Harry sat down on one of the velvet, green sofas facing the fire and sighed. On the mantelpiece were five pictures in brass and silver frames. The first one showed three students, one of them whom Harry recognized as a thirteen-year-old Remus Lupin smiling mysteriously, gathered around a tall, black-haired man who held a gold cauldron. The boy-who-lived recognized him as a younger version of Alexander. The other three pictures showed him with his family, and one included an eight-year-old Severus Snape. The fifth picture, which had a gold frame and looked very old, caught Harry's attention. This picture did not move, but it was in black and white. Three teenagers, who all looked around fourteen, stood in front of a large building; the one standing on the left looked like a young Lucius Malfoy and the one on the far right looked like a young Severus Snape, but the one standing in the middle shocked Harry. There, smiling happily as if he did not have a care in the world, was Tom Riddle. The boy realised, while looking closer, that names were written underneath the teenagers. The blonde one seemed to be named 'Claudius Malfoy' and the black-haired one with pale skin was called 'Alexander Snape'. Tom Riddle's slightly loopy signature was scrolled underneath the picture of him. Harry must have been looking at it for ages, when Alexander came in with a large white tray. He put it down onto the coffee table in front of the two sofas. Two cups of tea with Chinese saucers were placed on it, and a small plate of what looked like biscuits. The boy put the picture back in his pocket hurriedly.  
  
"Is that muggle food?" Harry asked, taking one of the biscuits.  
  
Alexander frowned slightly.  
  
"I cooked them myself - some of the ingredients are used in muggle cooking, although I doubt any one of non-magic blood would eat them. It would be a bit risky."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Well, unlike the wizarding world, muggles aren't used to the high level of Potions' ingredients. They are perfectly safe for you and I, although I expect my son would ignore such a rule and give them to muggles. On purpose, of course."  
  
Alexander's words were so casual, and he was very unlike Snape, Harry noticed. He talked as if he did not have a care in the world.  
  
The man passed him one of the cups of tea, while he took his own and sat down on the other settee. Then, they both sat in front of the hot, roaring fire, eating and drinking.  
  
"Sir," Harry began after a while. "I couldn't help noticing the pictures on the mantelpiece."  
  
Alexander then looked slightly pained.  
  
"Yes?" he said awkwardly.  
  
"Well, how old were you when the picture in the gold frame was taken?"  
  
The man looked directly at the picture in the golden frame and stared at it for a few minutes.  
  
"We were fourteen," he said slowly. "It was our first time at the theatre, and Claudius's parents had kindly paid for us to go. It cost a bundle. It was in London, you see, and Tom must have been so excited - it was his first time there."  
  
"You knew him at school?"  
  
"Yes, I did. I also knew your father when I taught here. Those other pictures with the students - can you see them? - They were taken when I educated here."  
  
This piece of information gave Harry hope - if there was one person who knew about the students back then, other than Dumbledore, it was Alexander.  
  
"Professor? Can I ask you something?" the boy asked after a short while.  
  
"Certainly."  
  
"What was my father like? Professor Snape says he was arrogant, and I saw him in the Pensieve last year."  
  
"What did you think of him, Mr Potter? It's only a question you yourself can answer, and I can only give my opinions."  
  
Harry thought to himself for a minute.  
  
"I'd like your opinion, Professor."  
  
Alexander smiled slightly.  
  
"Very well - he was, as my son says, quite conceited in his own way. He didn't have any regard for the rules and thought up new jokes with his friend during class. But, of course, on the lighter note, he didn't truly have anything too wrong with him. All he really needed was a bit of discipline. Mr Lupin was a good student - he did listen in class, although he never really took the concept of Potion making in."  
  
"But sir, he was a Gryffindor. I thought you didn't like Gryffindors?"  
  
"If, Mr Potter, I didn't like Gryffindors, what makes you think that I would be talking to you now?"  
  
Harry smiled slightly as he finished the rest of his tea.  
  
"Professor, I-" his sentence was cut off as the main door suddenly sprung open, and a black-cloaked figure appeared in the doorway. His eyes shone with pure malice, but Alexander stayed calm.  
  
"Ah, Severus, how nice of you to join us."  
  
Snape walked over to the sofas and looked straight down at Harry.  
  
"Potter?" he spat. His voice trembled with anger. "What in Merlin's beard do you think you are doing in my father's chambers at quarter to six in the morning?"  
  
The boy hadn't realised the time. Last he knew, it was four o'clock and he had been trying to get to sleep.  
  
Snape's face looked greasy, like his hair, and his teeth had a strange red stain on them. His eyes were alert with anger, and his fist was clutched around his wand. His front teeth were barred, like a dog's.  
  
"Severus, please don't make that outlandish face at him. You look as though you ran straight into a brick wall," Alexander said softly. "Mr Potter would have preferred some company, so I decided to make him a cup of tea. The kettle is boiling over the fireplace in the kitchen if you want any."  
  
Snape looked, if possible, even angrier at his father's words, but he turned around quickly and walked swiftly out of the room and into, what Harry guessed, Alexander's office.  
  
After a few minutes of silence, Harry sprung up from the chair and turned to the door that Snape had gone through.  
  
"Mr Potter?" The former Potions' master asked.  
  
"Don't mind me, sir, I just need a word with Professor Snape." And with that, he disappeared into the office.  
  
He walked through the room, which was filled with bookcases and jars, to another room. It was circular, and the walls were made out of cold stone. A spiral stone staircase, which went to the floor below and the one above, stood just next to the boy, and it seemed to go on forever.  
  
Harry went down the steps and onto the next floor, where it was even darker, and wooden torches in brackets lined the stone walls. Wooden doors were opposite that wall, all lined neatly alongside each other.  
  
The door nearest to Harry was ajar, and Snape's voice was heard in the room.  
  
He knocked loudly and called "Professor?" before the door opened and the figure of one Professor Snape appeared with a spoon dripping with red stuff portentously.  
  
"Potter," he whispered, frowning at the boy.  
  
"I need a word, sir."  
  
Snape muttered something under his breath before raising an eyebrow slowly.  
  
"I vaguely remember telling you to only approach here if you required something; as in the instance that the Dark Lord was running around the school with a pink silky rabbit and asking if anyone knew how to feed them," Snape replied silkily, causing the boy to cough slightly.  
  
"Yes, well - it's about my dad. And you're the only one who I know that knows what he's like when he's not surrounded by anyone else," Harry finished, wrapping his arms around himself as the cold air started to penetrate though his thick dressing gown.  
  
Snape, who did not question about why the student was down in the dungeons, seemed to think about this meticulously for a moment, before he opened the door fully to allow Harry to pass into his rooms.  
  
Harry had never been in Snape's chambers - and that didn't change Harry's feeling of awe at the sitting room.  
  
It was a small circular room with a fireplace sticking out of the stone wall slightly, with two dark green plush sofas - with books and tapestries of gruesome battles (one practically horrid one was of a man covered in blood and holding up a head on a pike, and this was placed above the fireplace) lining the walls.  
  
"Be seated and verbalize," he heard the fellow say from behind him, before he moved forward and sat slowly into one of the chairs and leant back into the comfort.  
  
"How did you know I was awake at this hour?" Severus asked, sitting into the couch opposite to face the boy.  
  
Harry shrugged his shoulders.  
  
"You never sleep," Harry muttered, trying to fight against the need to fall asleep right here; in the warm and sumptuous room.  
  
If Harry kept his eyes open, he would have seen Snape smirk slightly as he played with the rim of his stoneware mug.  
  
"I don't need to," he stated to no one in particular, before looking at the boy in front of him.  
  
"What do you want, Potter?" he asked softly, as Harry opened his eyes slowly.  
  
"Lucius Malfoy told me something last week that I need to confirm," he finished sleepily; his mind arguing that he needed to sleep and not talk.  
  
Snape nodded slowly, taking a sip of his blackcurrant tea before coughing slightly into his hand and looking at the clock.  
  
"Whatever Lucius said - you must believe," Severus muttered to Harry, still looking at the oval clock on the wall and trying to see what time it read.  
  
The man got off the chair and went through the door opposite the main one, while not saying anything at all. He came back five minutes later with a crumpled piece of parchment wrapped in a green ribbon and put it down in front of Harry, giving him a 'put-it-in-your-pocket-and-keep-it-safe-or- I'll-give-you-a-detention' look.  
  
Harry just murmured something under his breath and wrapped his arms carefully around his thin frame, but took the parchment and stuffed it into his breast pocket.  
  
"Now, if the Headmaster was to know that you were ever down here, he would see to the expulsion of you. I suggest you leave, before I change my mind about not giving you detention."  
  
His lips curled slightly as he watched Harry get off the chair and leave the room, without protesting.  
  
As the door closed with a soft 'click', Snape sat back in his chair and smirked. "Weasley has been found by Filch while trying to find you - and in the morning you shall be accused by him that you told me of his plans and be forever be controlled by them and the rest of the Wizarding World. Or you can follow your heart and find the man that has destroyed your life for his own skin," he whispered mutely. He got up and walked out of the room and into his bedroom, ignoring the feeling of retrieving James Potter's address from his student's breast pocket.  
  
------------------ 


	6. Two New Acquaintances

The Façade of the Truth  
  
Chapter 6 - Two New Acquaintances  
  
---------------------------  
  
A weak light shone through the parting in the red curtains, making Harry pull back his Gryffindor hangings and look around. The winter light had illuminated the room. Almost three months had passed since Harry's talk with Severus Snape and his father; the boy still looked after the picture of his father, but he had forgotten about the crumpled bit of parchment his teacher had given him.  
  
Everyone else must have left the dormitory. The sheets on Ron's bed had been neatly made, and everyone else had left their beds unmade. Harry took another look around the room before jumping out of bed, grabbing some clean robes and running into the bathroom.  
  
----------  
  
"Really, Ron, I would expect better of you. You know what Harry's like these days, he-" Hermione was cut short in her sentence as Harry strolled into the empty Common Room. He looked at his two friends, who must have been conversing over him.  
  
"Hi Harry," his red-haired friend said. "We were just-"  
  
"Taking about me?" the boy-who-lived replied, smiling slightly as he sat down.  
  
"Are you coming down to the Great Hall to wait, Harry?" Hermione asked slowly, sitting up and heading towards the portrait door. Ron followed her.  
  
The boy shook his head.  
  
"No - I'll be down in a minute. Don't wait for me," he replied.  
  
They both nodded and left the Common Room, leaving their friend quite alone. But he didn't mind - he had just felt in his pockets and found a crumpled piece of parchment. Knowing what it was, he waited until his friends had left him alone before taking off the green ribbon and opening the package. A lump appeared in Harry's throat as he read what the parchment said.  
  
'Bude, Cornwall.'  
  
An address? Why had Snape given Harry an address? It didn't sound like a wizarding area. Then, a thought struck him. At the time Snape gave Harry the address, they were talking about James Potter, weren't they?  
  
It seemed like hours that Harry stared at the parchment clutched in his hand. He knew where Cornwall was - Uncle Vernon had once gone there with Dudley, leaving Petunia alone with her nephew. But Bude - where was Bude?  
  
Part of him grew angry at the thought of his father leaving him. Why hadn't he contacted Harry and said something? Didn't he want anything to do with the boy?  
  
He pondered on the question for a few minutes, when he was interrupted by a loud bang coming from the boys' dormitories. He looked up in mild irritation, before putting the parchment back in his pocket and getting up slowly, meaning to walk up the staircase.  
  
He reached his own dormitory, and Errol, the Post Owl, was lying flat down on the floor, with a message tied to its leg.  
  
"Stupid bird," Harry muttered, before walking over to the bird and picking it up gently. "What am I going to do with you? Your owner should've gotten rid of you ages ago."  
  
The bird cooed softly.  
  
He sighed in defeat, and took the message from the owl's outstretched foot. Just as he was about to open the silver ribbon that was tied around the semi-green parchment, a shrill voice echoed throughout the dormitories, and Hermione's head appeared in the doorway.  
  
"Hello Harry. Just to say that you're going to be late for Breakfast if you don't hurry up. Come on Harry."  
  
She walked out, leaving a befuddled Harry and a tired Errol looking at her retreating back.  
  
-----------------  
  
As he walked down to Breakfast with a crowd of people, he noticed that posters lined the stone walls, but as his party were going so quickly, it didn't register to him that Professor Snape was on the front of every single one. It was only when Hermione pointed them out, however, that he raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Why on earth is he around the school, Hermione?" Harry asked, earning a dark glance from Ron.  
  
"I dunno Harry - maybe he just wants his presence known?" Ron replied.  
  
"How odd," The boy muttered to himself, clearly not expecting it. "Hermione, you should know!" He put his hands into his robe pocket, fumbled around, and felt a piece of parchment. Then, as he came to terms with what it was, a thought struck him.  
  
"I don't know Ha-" Hermione was cut off from saying the rest of her sentence as she watched Harry leave the crowd and go off in a different direction. "Harry, where are you going?" she called.  
  
The boy turned around and looked at her, without stopping.  
  
"I'll be back in a minute! Don't wait for me!" he cried.  
  
----------------------------------  
  
"For the last time, Mr Potter, please be quiet!"  
  
Harry was sitting at one of the desks in the library, pouring over some books he had picked out in hope of finding information about Bude. So far, he hadn't had any luck, so he kept knocking his hand against his table in frustration. Madame Pince wasn't very happy about it.  
  
He looked out of the window behind him. The sun was at its highest point in the sky, indicating that it was afternoon. But even though the boy's stomach grumbled with hunger, he wasn't going to give in. He had to find where Bude was.  
  
The library doors swung open again, making the boy look to see who had entered. This time, it was a very worried-looking Hermione.  
  
"Harry!" she exclaimed, when she saw the books her friend was reading. "Harry - have I been a good influence on you?" She stepped towards him and sat opposite her friend, although the boy-who-lived just looked back at the books and didn't say anything.  
  
"We were so worried, Harry. We waited in the Great Hall at breakfast, but you didn't come! It's not often that you come in the library - whatever's the matter?"  
  
Harry looked up from the page he was reading.  
  
"Do you really want to know?" he asked through grinded teeth.  
  
"Well - yes."  
  
The boy sighed irritably.  
  
"I'm looking for a map of England. You know - with all the counties and stuff."  
  
"What ever do you need a map of England for, Harry? Can't you find your way?"  
  
"Listen, all right, do you have a map with towns on? I need one now. You go into the Library often - where are they all?"  
  
"You won't find any in here. You'll have to go to a muggle library. But then - you could just ask me!"  
  
Harry sighed again.  
  
"Where's Bude? I mean, I know it's in Cornwall, but I need to know where."  
  
"You've got a lot to learn, Harry."  
  
- * -* -* -* -* -*  
  
'Well, this is it,' Harry thought determinedly as he got off a bus and looked around at his surroundings in the near darkness. He had said a quick goodbye to Hermione and Ron before leaving, telling them that he wasn't going to be long and wanted to go on a short walk around the school grounds. Then, while he was on the train, travelling down to London, he remembered that he had forgotten all his school supplies. Luckily, he brought some galleons with him to change it into muggle money.  
  
He was by a canal, he knew that much - he could also make out a 'Lloyd's Bank' to his left and a dowdy pub across the road from him, but the rest of the places (except the road going up the hill on the right of Lloyds Bank) were in shadow and it was because of this that Harry dared not to go any further until he knew where he was.  
  
As if by magic, an old lady appeared from behind the tatty bus station with a large tartan bag. It was either now, or never.  
  
"Excuse me?" Harry said aloud, causing the grey haired lady to stare up at him and narrow her eyes slightly. She said nothing, so Harry decided that he should continue.  
  
"Is it possible for you to tell me where I am?" he asked politely, wrapping his arms around himself and wishing that he had brought a jumper with him. She looked up at him with a sour face.  
  
"'Yur in 'Bood," she replied darkly in a croaky voice.  
  
"Well, that's good. I don't suppose you could tell me where in Bude I am?" he asked, noticing her eyes widen in surprise as he spoke.  
  
"Ey, yur not from 'round 'ere - are ya? Yur from up 'fere," she spoke in a harsh tone and pointed up to the sky with her free left arm - causing Harry to lift an eyebrow and cough slightly.  
  
"No, I'm not. I would just like to know how I could get to a place called Primrose Road."  
  
The woman seemed to take this as an insult - for she looked disgusted and then preceded to spit on Harry's white trainers.  
  
After Harry grimaced and stepped back disgustingly, a smug look appeared on her wrinkly face and she then folded her arms.  
  
"That's fur yur cheek, young lad. Whee, when I wis a lass, you young'ins had mur respect fur yur elders,"  
  
Harry frowned, smiled a mocking smile and then walked off into the darkness.  
  
After asking people he met on the way up the road as to where he was supposed to be going- he walked up a tall hill, passing a large secondary school and a place called 'Safeway' on his journey.  
  
He leant against a lamppost - and was so caught up in his musings that he didn't notice someone poke him in the back and a dog growl from behind him.  
  
A thin black haired boy was standing near him, one hand holding a large, black lead. He looked around the same age as Harry, although his clothes were muddy and ripped. The boy-who-lived looked back down at the lead and noticed the large Alsatian that was barring its teeth at him.  
  
"Hi - my name's Steven," the boy said casually, holding out his hand for Harry to shake.  
  
He shook it slowly.  
  
"I'm Harry - Harry Potter."  
  
All of a sudden, the boy named Steven put his free arm around Harry's neck tightly and lead him back up the road he had just come up, heading towards Safeway again.  
  
"Now, looks like I've never seen you round here before, so I'm gonna teach you a few tricks. Ya see, 'cos you're new, I'm going to show you how to fit in, if you like," he said casually, his voice trailing off.  
  
They walked up the road, into a carpark and through two automatic doors with a sign saying 'entrance', but not before Steven tied the dog's lead to one of the brick supports. Harry was glad to be in the warmth again - the cold night air had started to sting his skin. It was only when they arrived in the actual supermarket that Steven let go of his neck.  
  
"Right, you have to follow me on this one, mate. You see, what you've gotta do, is follow me and do what I say, got it?"  
  
Before Harry could respond, Steven took his wrist and pulled him down a long aisle, which led to the others, where many people were bustling about with baskets and trolleys, shopping. They eventually came to an aisle with packets of sweets - muggle sweets, and Harry had forgotten about those. He was used to Chocolate frogs and Fizzing Whizbees.  
  
Immediately, Steven opened his thick jacket, took a large packet of sweets of the shelf and stuffed it into one of his pockets, but not before looking at Harry.  
  
"Right, mate, when I say run, we run, got it?" he asked.  
  
The second boy nodded, not really having any thing to say in the matter. Steven began walking towards the end of the aisle, and someone in a uniform, clearly a member of staff who was stacking the shelves, saw him.  
  
"Hey, kid!" he cried, dropping some items and lunging for the boy. "Give those back!"  
  
"RUN!" Steven yelled.  
  
They ran down the aisle, down another one, up one with fruit and, eventually, through the main doors, setting the alarms off. People stared at the both of them, and members of staff ran after the two boys.  
  
Once outside, Steven hid behind one of the brick supports, beckoning for Harry to follow him. They hid behind it, hoping that the two members of staff who had been following them were not going to discover them. Silence followed after a while, and the two boys knew that they had gone away, so they crept out from behind the bricks and untied the dog.  
  
"Why'd you do that?" Harry asked, as he watched the boy They didn't stop running until they got back to the 'Elizabeth Road', where Harry had met Steven a few minutes ago. The muggle opened his jacket again and pulled out a torch, lighting the ground with it. It was then that Harry realised that they were on a housing estate - a large one, with a small field to the left and houses in front and on the right. The two boys were standing on a deserted pavement with a road next to them.  
  
"Excuse me," Harry said quietly, making Steven look directly at him with great satisfaction.  
  
"Just call me Steve," he replied, grinning.  
  
"Right, Steve. Could you tell me if I'm far from a place called 'Primrose Road'?"  
  
They walked a little bit further down the pavement, and Steven didn't reply. Eventually, they came to the edge of the field and turned a corner. More houses could be seen, and the new boy waved his torch in front of a small sign saying 'Primrose Road'.  
  
"There's your answer, mate," he said happily. "Come on - I live down this road. I'll show you my house."  
  
Harry's heart was in his throat as they walked down the dusty, deserted pavement. The dark sky was no longer an inky blue, but a dark black. The stars glittered in the sky like thousands of tiny lights, and the moon hung above them both. Someone was sitting on the pathway of their house, drinking something out of a chipped mug, and a light was illuminating a room in another house, showing the people who were arguing inside.  
  
They crossed the road and went up some steps leading to a house with brick walls. The porch was littered with bits of rubbish, and the bars that surrounded the home were dented in some places. The kitchen light was switched on.  
  
"This is my house," Steven said happily. He walked over to the door, knocked twice and a shrill scream could be heard from within.  
  
"BOY! WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?"  
  
The door swung open, and a woman appeared in a cotton nightgown. Her hair was black and curly, and she had long, red earrings. She looked angry.  
  
"Hi mum," the new boy said casually, his hands sunk in his pockets.  
  
"And who's this, Steven?" the woman said, slight anger in her voice. She gave Harry a confused glance, and then she spotted the Alsatian. "That mutt is not coming into the house, Steve! I want you to take it back to Glenda - and no, you're not keeping it!"  
  
The boy looked slightly disappointed, but handed the lead to his mother. "This is Harry - he's my new mate. Says he's not from around here. I'll take the dog back in a minute, but first, I have to show my new mate my room."  
  
"Very well - bring him in, but he's not staying for tea!"  
  
She allowed the two boys to pass, and the Harry noticed that the house was very warm. Harry appeared to be standing in the hall, and a staircase stood next to him, which went up to the second floor. Directly in front of them was the living room, and a Christmas tree was visible.  
  
"Well, I'll show you my room, ok?"  
  
They walked up the stairs and onto the landing, where the carpet was bright orange, and a door to the left of them was ajar. Steven walked over to it and knocked loudly.  
  
"Hailey, are you in there? Come out and meet my new friend, or I'll come in your room and-"  
  
"Go away!" A high-pitched voice from inside yelled. "Don't come in, or I'll tell on you!"  
  
Steven turned round to face Harry and grinned.  
  
"Don't worry, this ain't my room. That's just my little sister. Come on, down here."  
  
Harry was starting to feel tired - his mind was racing, and he wanted to know where his father was. But he was lead down the hall and into another room, and when Steven switched on his light, he could see there was a blue cupboard right behind the door. There was a metal bed at the other end of the room, with a blue quilt, and the walls were a bright yellow, matching the curtains that covered the window.  
  
"So, Steven, how old is your sister?" Harry asked, not really knowing why he was in the house. He wanted to leave, to find his father and talk to him.  
  
"She's ten, and believe me, she's a complete nightmare!"  
  
Steven walked over to his bed and sat down, making the mattress stoop slightly under his weight. He looked around the room, and Harry then noticed the sofa bed against the wall opposite the window.  
  
"Sit down," the other boy said sharply, throwing his coat onto the bed. It sounded more like a command than a question.  
  
The boy-who-lived sat himself down on the yellow settee and sighed deeply.  
  
"Uh, Steve?" he began slowly.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"You wouldn't happen to know anyone who, well, has round glasses and black hair, would you?"  
  
Steven gave a slight chuckle and leant against his metal headboard.  
  
"Only you, mate."  
  
These words said it all for Harry - maybe James couldn't be alive. If Steven lived in the same area, and he didn't know anyone with that description, how could the man be alive? His heart sank, and he began crumpling the parchment still in his pocket, not knowing why he was doing so. It was all a joke - a mean, cruel joke. He had travelled across England in hope of finding his father, only to discover that it was a waste of time. Had Lucius given him the address in hope of bringing the boy out of Hogwarts, where it was safe, to where Voldemort had access to him?  
  
A bark from downstairs and a woman's screech pulled him out of his unhappy thoughts.  
  
--------------------------------------------  
  
Steven and a very grief stricken Harry walked onto the large, paved area with around nine houses surrounding it.  
  
"Come on, Hooch!" yelled a female voice in front of them.  
  
"Hi, Glenda!" Steven bellowed back.  
  
A middle-aged woman was standing by the wall of her own house a little way ahead of them. She had short, brown hair, brown eyes and a warm smile. The Alsatian that Steven was with began barking madly and ran over to her.  
  
The two boys made their way to the house, and once on the path, the muggle began talking to the owner of the house.  
  
"Who's your new friend?" Glenda asked.  
  
"Oh, this is Harry. He's looking for a person round here, I think."  
  
"That right, son?"  
  
Harry stared at the woman and nodded.  
  
"You're not my mother," he replied quietly.  
  
The other two began to laugh.  
  
"I didn't mean that, boy," she replied, stroking the dog in front of her.  
  
The other two began talking again, and Harry continued to look around him, the cold air starting to sting his sore neck.  
  
Then, a red car drove up the road, its lights on full beam, and parked in front of the house to the left of them. The door of the house opened, and a woman stepped out. Her brown hair was tied back, but a few curly strands hung down over her shoulders. Two children, both small girls, followed her into the car, and the horn hooted twice. A man, with ear-length white hair and pale skin, ran out of the house, locked the door and also ran into the car. Then, once the door was shut, it drove off.  
  
Harry thought that none of this concerned him, but it all happened to fast that it felt odd.  
  
"Well, goodnight then, Steve. Hope to see you tomorrow."  
  
"Bye Glenda."  
  
Steven began making his way back to his own house, whistling for Harry to follow.  
  
"C'mon, mate!" he cried.  
  
Harry still stared into the darkness where the car had driven, sighed, and followed Steven down the brick road.  
  
"Who was that?" he asked slowly.  
  
"Who? Glenda? She's my mate."  
  
"No, that bloke who just got into that red car and drove off with three other people."  
  
Steven stopped dead in his tracks.  
  
"Oh, you mean him!" he replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "That's my mate. Tomorrow, I can let you meet my other mate, Billy."  
  
He began walking down the road again, and Harry ran after him.  
  
"You have a lot of mates, don't you?" he said irritably. "But I was wondering what that man's name was, you know? It seems a bit strange how he just got into that car and drove off -"  
  
"I think his name's Smith - Jonathan Smith."  
  
"Isn't that a bit odd?"  
  
"No, he's an old guy."  
  
"What I'm trying to say, Steve, is it's almost as if the name's been chosen. I mean, John Smith?"  
  
"Yeah? What about it? Listen, I don't know much about the guy. He came here a couple of years ago with the rest of his family and I haven't heard anything else. Do you expect me to know every single person in Bude?" Steven asked, sighing exasperatedly  
  
"Well, it certainly seems like you do. Besides, I thought he was your mate?"  
  
"His son is."  
  
They walked the rest of the way to the house in silence without making eye contact. Steven's mother greeted him angrily when he arrived, saying that the police had been round to question him. Harry decided to leave them there, as he really had nothing to do with the whole affair and needed to get a train back to King's Cross Station.  
  
He walked into the almost deserted town, now feeling extremely tired and lifeless. His hands were numb with the cold, and he had nowhere to sleep.  
  
'I should have stayed with Steven. I suppose he would have let me stay,' he thought, as he sat himself down on one of the benches by the canal.  
  
He watched as a seagull flew down low over the water and back into the night sky, clearly going to its own nest somewhere in the distance. A few people with carrier bags walked passed him, but he ignored them. Then, someone sat down next to him, put their white carrier bag onto the pavement and began looking through it, as if searching for someone. The person muttered a quiet swear word and looked at Harry vaguely.  
  
His dark brown, untidy hair fell over his hazel eyes, and his skin was quite pale. He bit down on his bottom lip and watched as someone went past him. He gave a curious expression before talking to the boy next to him.  
  
"Sorry to bother you," he said in a casual accent, "but I was just wondering if you had seen a ring of keys lying anywhere? I seem to have lost mine, you see, and I can't get into the house without them." His speech was very precise, and he kept eye contact with Harry all the while.  
  
"No, sorry."  
  
The boy uttered another swear word and continued to look through his 'Safeway' carrier bag.  
  
"Won't your parents let you in?" Harry asked, after watching the boy struggle.  
  
"Alas, they've gone on holiday." He gave a slight chuckle. "Told me I had to get some groceries before they left, and now I've lost the keys. They can't trust me; really, I can be so clumsy sometimes. Dad says I get it off mum."  
  
He gazed up into the sky for a while, smiling, leaving Harry staring at him strangely, as if he was something from another planet. Then, all of a sudden, the boy stared at him and gasped.  
  
"See? Stupid me - I can't believe I forgot to introduce myself." He held out his hand. "My name's Mark Foster. I'm fourteen. What about you?"  
  
"I'm Harry - Harry Potter. I'm sixteen."  
  
"I've heard that name somewhere before." He laughed quietly. "Oh yeah, Potter's the garbage man who comes round here, collecting our waste. What are your parents' names? I have to tell you that your father owes my dad a lot of money."  
  
Harry sighed deeply.  
  
"I don't have any parents," he said quietly. It was harder for him to have thought, for a couple of weeks, that James could have been alive, but he wasn't. It was like the first time he found out that they had been murdered. He had this empty feeling inside of him again.  
  
He could see a sudden look of sympathy on Mark's kind face and shook his head.  
  
"Don't worry about it - I never knew them anyway. Lots of people have given me sympathy over it, and it's nice of them, but I don't want it."  
  
Mark nodded.  
  
"I don't know what I'd do without my parents. I wish you could meet them, you know - understand what it's like. Anyway, I better be off. I've got to go and find my keys."  
  
He got off the wooden bench and picked up his carrier bag, his gaze not leaving Harry's. He had a very penetrating stare.  
  
"Listen, Henry, do you want to come back to our house? No one's in, but maybe you can help me find a way to break the door down - that is, if you want to."  
  
Harry gaped at him.  
  
"Did you just call me Henry?" he asked.  
  
"Yup - didn't you know Harry's a pet form of Henry? Dad told me a few years ago."  
  
Harry pondered on this for a minute, but soon pushed it to the back of his mind and smiled slightly at the boy in front of him.  
  
"Okay then, I'd love to."  
  
About half an hour later, Harry was back up at Primrose Road and was walking up the same hill that Stephen had walked him up earlier on.  
  
Mark almost skipped over to the house where the white-haired man had come out of almost an hour ago - and by the time Harry had reached him, the other boy was swearing like a trooper under his breath.  
  
"Stupid.stupid man.oh, hello Harry," the boy then noticed that Harry was looking at him bemusedly and with a slight grin on his face.  
  
"What?" Harry asked, choosing not to hide the smile that he felt appear on his face at the younger boy's wide vocabulary.  
  
"My stupid Grandfather left the stupid house keys in the stupid keyhole in the middle of the stupid night," Mark muttered gruffly, holding up a set of five keys on a ring under the orange lamppost so that Harry could see.  
  
Harry was quite sure he had never heard so many 'stupids' in one sentence.  
  
"Listen.they haven't been taken - so that's a good thing, isn't it?" Harry asked warily, noticing the boy look down at a shadow of a rose bush by the door.  
  
He swore again.  
  
"Stupid man! He hasn't even bothered to water the stu-"  
  
"Please!" Harry said suddenly. "Say something other than 'stupid'! It's going to drive me batty."  
  
Mark grinned slightly, and then unlocked the door and motioned for Harry to follow him into the dark house.  
  
The boy switched on the hall's light while Harry shut the large, plastic green door.  
  
When he turned, he noticed that the staircase was on the right - and the kitchen (where some more colourful words were coming from) was on he left.  
  
He walked through the doorway and into the kitchen, to where a collection of strange and colourful ornaments (including a collection of artistic plates) could be seen on a large wooden bookcase - half of the large kitchen was covered in shelving and cupboards (a fridge which was currently open was next to the cupboard), while the other half had a six place wooden dining table.  
  
Mark turned around from doing whatever he was doing by the sink, and smiled slightly at Harry.  
  
"You can come in, you know. My dad has all sorts of strange people in here all the time, so I'm used to seeing strangers in here. Tea, coffee or orange juice?" Mark finished, holding a jug of water and looked at his newfound friend who was standing by the door. He walked over to the fridge and opened it. "Or some yellow milk that's been left at the back of the fridge for a couple of months?"  
  
"Shouldn't you carry on with packing away your shopping?" Harry asked, his gaze shifting to the bag that was sitting on the table.  
  
"No need to worry. It's only milk and bread and stuff - and by the time my parents come back, the milk will be growing mould on it," he said sarcastically, waving his hands about as if pushing Harry's question away.  
  
"Then I'll have a milky tea, please," Harry replied, smiling as the younger lad smiled back.  
  
"Sugar?" And because Harry shook his head, he just smiled slightly and put two teaspoons of brown sugar into his own chipped mug.  
  
"Go and sit down in the living room, Harry. I'll just finish the shopping and then I'll bring it in. Watch the TV or something," Mark continued, pouring some milk into the both of the cups. "I'm sure dad's fixed it since he fell over it and almost set the house on fire."  
  
Harry walked into the adjoining room - where two large creamy white plush sofas and a winged back chair were sat firmly around a large glass coffee table, and a large black television was on the far end of the room.  
  
To Harry's right were a collection of photographs and a small computer set just behind the door - he turned to look at some of the family pictures, and saw various poses of the family.  
  
One man caught his eye, however - he had dark blonde hair down to his lower ear, and a cold smile that didn't quite reach his dark silver eyes.  
  
That piercing look.it caused something to stir in the back of Harry's tired mind.as if the person in the portrait was pulling at some nerves in the back of his head and enjoyed causing Harry to become very confused and slightly dazed.  
  
Harry jumped as he felt warm breath on the back of his neck and someone tap him on his right shoulder blade.  
  
"That's my dad," he heard Mark say happily, before he was passed a slightly chipped mug with a rude picture on it. "And that's his mug."  
  
Harry blushed slightly, and smiled before he was pulled over to sit in one of the creamy sofas.  
  
X-X-X-X  
  
------------------------ 


End file.
